


The Lion Maid

by LeoSapphirus



Series: The Lion's Love [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoSapphirus/pseuds/LeoSapphirus
Summary: "...but you will need to come alone. Elsewise, the Hound will kill her." She had said. And so he had followed. Because she’d needed him to. They’d both made an oath.





	1. Honor

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to GRRM and HBO.
> 
>  
> 
> [Honor Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/150933996829/jb-appreciation-week-2016-day-1-honor-the-lion#notes)

"...but you will need to come alone. Elsewise, the Hound will kill her." She had said. And so he had followed. Because she’d needed him to. They’d both made an oath.

It was gallantry and duty that had me absconding from my camp in the shroud of night. Twas all at a maiden’s behest. He mused in black humor as a seething rage had him shaking in his saddle.

Tyrion had the right of it. What had the imp dubbed him again? That’s right. _A Poor. Stupid. Blind. Crippled. Fool._ How apt. At first he had suspected nothing amiss with her tale. Which was ludicrous. There were all manner of signs. Any dullard should have known he was being fed a steaming pile of bull. _So the monster held the damsel? And only a knight could save her?_ All lifted from some song no doubt.

Were all women truly this treacherous? He found himself asking the gods. He had a mind to rush her, knock her off her horse, and what? Throttle her? Demand answers at sword point? As if she wouldn’t crash him. Though the wench was a wreck. In more ways than one. Her injuries went far beyond the bite she kept bandaged. From the way she held herself, he wagered she was nursing a pair of broken ribs. Her countenance was as grim as he’d ever seen her, which was saying something. Stupid, ugly, hulking beast of a woman. _Her great sapphire eyes held a singular desolation._

She had suffered awfully. That was palpable. He’d known that on sight. The rest he’d never seen coming. But why? Because he’d trusted her? Thought her true? Would have staked his life upon her honor? Yes. To all of it. It made him furious to know her false. He’d hate her most for that.

He noticed that she winced as she picked up her pace. Knew he shouldn’t care if she hurt. But did, inexplicably. Even as he thought to take pleasure from it. He should have some small retribution, should he not?

She’s leading me to my death most like, he told himself, as if breaking the news. But the truth of it had hit him hours back. Her clumsy replies to his questioning giving her away. Now the rotting corpses that hanged from the trees were harbingers of his impending demise. He had noted how they were increasing in frequency. This must be where the Brotherhood hides. — Oh good. He’d been looking for them. — If he had any sense, he’d turn back, get his forces, and send these outlaws to the deepest of the seven hells. The wench be damned. Yet he still followed, urging his mount to keep her pace. Even as she led him in silence through this bleak forest, not riding by his side but ahead, and never turning back to look at him. The sound of Honor’s hoof beats the only evidence that he trailed behind.

He watched her with eyes fixed on her form. She was hunched determinedly in her saddle. She still had that, he though with a perverse gratitude he despised. That grit. That iron will still drives her. She may even have her reasons. But those reasons were not concerned with preserving his life, he thought bitterly. She had made her choice.

***

She wished she had never left Tarth. Never left the protection of her father and his hall. She should have listened. When men had laughed and sneered at her, when they had chided her, even when they had given her gentle warning, she had closed her eyes and ears to them. But whatever their manner, they had been right. All of them. She was no knight.

Her failures hounded her with every moment that passed. Stinging her more horrifically than the burning pain of her mauled and mangled cheek. Lady Catelyn was dead and something terrible had taken her place. Some dark creature wanting nothing but vengeance. Sansa and Arya were lost. Podrick almost hanged to death and still in the hands of the Brotherhood.

She had chosen sword. Though she could scarcely think of it without wanting to cut out her own heart it hurt her so savagely. She could have cried tears of blood and drown in them. Knew that she would when… The only thing that kept her going was the thought that she could not leave the boy. She had to get him free.

“Do not come back, ser. My lady.” He’d pleaded with her in whispers before she’d left.

She had chosen sword. And so she meant to kill a man who had saved her life. More than once. A man who had gifted her with a priceless blade. Had entrusted her to find and protect Lady Stark’s daughters. A man who even now had left behind his other obligations to fulfill an oath. And in his youth had given up his honor to protect the many. No one would ever know the truth of it. She found herself regretting that most bitterly.

They were not half a league away now. She was sure they’d come upon the cave framed in thick white roots soon enough. _Then why hadn’t she done it yet?_

Because she’d rather die first. Gladly accepting a rope around her neck or a knife in her belly, if it spared her this. Even Biter devouring her flesh seemed less cruel. Everything inside her rebelled at the very thought of harming him. Her limbs refused. Her hands refused. Her mind. Her heart. She could not.

“Jaime, I have betrayed you.” She cried in a voice choked with the most brutal of agony and regret.

“I know.” He answered cuttingly.

She halted her horse and spun to face him, aghast.

“How?”

“You are no great liar, my lady. I don’t believe you’ve ever even met Sandor Clegane.”

“Then why have you continued to followed me, ser?” She demanded almost angry. Why haven’t you run yet, Jaime? Why haven’t you escaped me, if you know me for a betrayer?

“I’ll be damned if I know.” He responded wroth.

He was livid. Resentful. As he should be. It was all plain on his face. His emerald eyes accusing her of everything. But he did not rebuke her. Or even question her. His quiet fury as unnerving as it was uncharacteristic. She expected a blaring rage now, knowing that he knew. Would have welcomed it even. She deserved it and far worse. Yet, Jaime had chosen to bite back his ire and follow her to whatever end she brought him. Why? _Suddenly, she felt she knew. As if the light changed and she could see him as clear as day, though it was nearing dusk. He may have been uncertain of his motives, but she was not._

“You followed me here because you are a man of honor.” She said knowing she spoke the truth.

“Or a bloody fool.” He added harshly.

“Turn back, Jaime. Ride as fast as you can. Please.” She implored terrified of what was so close to them now.

“I can’t. I’m a man of bloody honor, remember?” He threw in her face. “Level with me wench, there is no Hound waiting for us at the end of this journey, is there?”

“There is a Hound.” She admitted numbly as Lem appeared up ahead. He was wearing the helm he had pillaged from Rorge.

“Is that truly him?” Jaime asked as they leapt off their horses in unison. Their swords drawn half a second after their feet had hit the ground, one having the other’s back.

“An imposter.” She whispered.

“How many?” Jaime asked as more brothers stepped out from behind the trees. They were flanked on both sides. The brothers slowly closing in. Weapons brandished.

“Eight. Here. I think. A few more at their camp.”

“Brilliant. If only I still had my sword hand. We’d each take four.”

“You already have more to you than you should, Kingslayer.” Lem informed Jaime.

“Told you the whore wouldn’t harm her precious love.” Jeered the brother they called Jack-Be-Lucky. He would name her Jaime’s whore before Jaime. She couldn't bring herself to look at him just then. It shouldn’t have mattered. She knew. It should have been the very least of it. But the thought of what Jaime would think horrified her. As if it were possible for him to have a lesser opinion of her as things were.

“The boy? Where is Podrick?” She asked frantically, pushing all else out of her mind.

No one answered at first. “You won’t see him until you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal. You were supposed to bring us his head, or have you forgotten?” Lem demanded of her. The shame of it left her speechless, that she had ever agreed.

“She did.” Jaime interjected belligerently. “It’s right here.” He said gesturing defiantly towards his head with his golden hand.

“My that gold does sparkle nicely.” Another brother interjected. It was the one called Harwin.

“If it’s gold you want, you’ll be rolling in it by the time you ransom the lady and I back to Casterly Rock.” Jaime assured the outlaws. But it was of no use she knew. She’d already tried with the promise of sapphires.

“We do not seek your Lannister gold.” Lem snarled from behind the Hound’s helm, gnashing his teeth as if he had truly turned into an animal. “We seek justice.”

“Outlaws seeking justice? How ironic.” Jaime dismissed caustically. “What justice do you seek from me?”

“We seek all lion blood to run red.” Lem hissed. Others cheered.

“It is Stoneheart that you serve.” She reminded them brusquely, rising her sword. Her voice finding her when she needed it the most. “It is she who demands justice. Let her try Jaime. If she is fair she will find him innocent. He has been true to her.”

The brothers broke out in a chorus of raucous laughter. Apparently, having known nothing so sidesplitting in their lives. She could feel Jaime bristling behind her, even in his confusion. “What?” He whispered almost inaudibly to her. There was no time to explain.

“He is here. Is he not?” She challenged. “He came, when he could have stayed with his troops and remained forever out of your reach.” And she had brought him here. “He is owed a fair trial.”

“I agree.” Said Thoros of Myr as he came upon them. “Given that Lady Brienne has brought the Kinslayer alive, he should be brought before our lady. She will want to see him.” She knew just how ominous those words were, though the red priest had not said them with malice. They would find no justice with Stoneheart. For that she would have to appeal to the gods.

“You have honor, ser.” She told Jaime with an intensity that must have burned him. “Now, I must reckon with my own.” He regarded her speechless even as they were led to the creature that would stand in judgement of them. How would Jaime react when he beheld her? She had given him no warning.


	2. Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Duty Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/150999031339/jb-appreciation-week-2016-day-2-duty-the-lion) (that sounds wrong)

Some of the outlaws persisted in surrounding him, even as they awaited his so-called trial. If he was to be brought before this Stoneheart woman. So be it. He’d finally get to come face to face with the elusive leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Not only that but just ahead stood the Brotherhood’s hideout. A cave amidst a labyrinth of massive white roots. Too bad he was to die so soon after making such a fine acquaintance.

The betrayer wench was fierce at his side. Griping the hilt of her sword as if she meant to cut down any brother who dared come too close. Maddeningly, he’d been forced to surrender his own blade. The wench urging him to comply. Little good a sword would do him now. He’d yet to reach even Peck’s level of mastery. At least the brothers had neglected to put him in irons. One of the perks of being a cripple.

They’d been warned not to speak. The wench adamant they obey. She was not part of their band, but did their bidding it would seem. They held a hostage. Some boy. Or so they claimed. The fact that the lad had yet to be produced did not bode well.

In all likelihood, he was going to hang for the sake of a boy who was already swinging from a tree. Was it worth it? He wanted to demand of the wench. And of himself. This lot strung up Merrett Frey when he came to ransom his kin. They did not keep faith. Though, admittedly, it was hard to blamed them for wanting to do away with Freys. Just his luck they felt the same about Lannisters. 

All too soon the hooded figure of a woman appeared from out the shadows of the cave. She was flanked by Thoros of Myr and another brother. It was Thoros who came to beckoned them. He remembered the red priest. Once a drinking companion of Robert’s. The man was much changed.

“Brace yourself, Jaime.” The wench cautioned in hushed tones as they approached. He had never feared death and would not cower now.

“Stoneheart, I presume.” He called to the cloaked woman. “I am Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin.”

The hooded woman made some terrible sound in response. Her hand at her throat. It was a horrid crocking gargling rattle, as inhuman as it was unintelligible.

“My lady says she knows who you are, Lannister.” Interpreted the brother beside her. A northerner. "She names you Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor.”

That brought back memories. “Yes, well, there are varying opinions on that. Am I to be tried for slaying Aerys? Is that the crime for which I must face justice?” He asked wanting to laugh. “If so, I can assure you I’ve already been pardoned by the late king Robert.”

The woman hissed and made another horrible crocking noise. “No.” He was able to make out, this time without translation.

“Then what is my crime, my lady? How have I wronged you?”

The woman slowly removed her hood, revealing a wreckage of grey rotting flesh. Gods be good. The wench had warned him for a reason.

“But you’re dead.” He heard himself say aghast.

Her eyes had been clawed at. Her throat slit. That’s why she had to hold it as she spoke. It was horrendous, what had become of Catelyn Stark. If this thing was still Catelyn at all. _Was this ghoulish fright what had driven Brienne to betray him? Was she loyal to this thing?_

“How can this be?” He demanded hardly able to believe his eyes. He’d heard strange tales about the Brotherhood but dismissed them all as superstitions.

“The Lord of Light brought our lady back. Together we will rid Westeros of the lion scourge.” Vociferated the fool in the Hound’s helm. He was a large man with a smelly yellow cloak, likely dyed in piss.

At that Stoneheart hissed and rattled.

“Oathbreaker. You spilled her son’s blood through treachery. You lost her daughters.” The northerner sounded off.

Finally, the charges were leveled against him. The boy, he’d owned, and confessed it to Catelyn herself. She had released him knowing his guilt. But the girls were lost before he ever set foot back in King’s Landing. Not his doing. Though he hardly felt inclined to plead his case to this monstrosity or the band of outlaws that now served her. There’d be no use in it. Stoneheart had judged him guilty, just as her late husband before her.

“My lady, as I’ve told you, Jaime sent me to search for your girls. He gave me his sword for that very purpose.”

“I bet he gave you his sword alright.” Jeered a one-eyed outlaw. His brothers hooted and whistled in sneering delight. Brienne was determined to ignore them. Yet she grew pink. _They think I’m fucking you, wench._

“He meant to return your girls. He still does.” She continued unrelentingly. “But they were both gone before we reached King’s Landing. Now it’s to me to find them.” Stupid stubborn cow. What undue burdens she took. Burdens he’d left for her to shoulder alone. “As for what happened with the Freys, Ser Jaime couldn’t have had a part in that. He was with me at the time. We were taken prisoner by the Bloody Mummers.”

What was this now? Did they think… “I had no part in the Red Wedding.” He denied in alarm. On that count he would defend himself.

The Stoneheart creature broke into violent rage at his words. The hideous sounds she made echoing off the trees and cave that surrounded them.

“Your lies do not fool her, Kingslayer.” The northerner informed him. “Roose Bolton gave my lady your regards before he slit her throat from ear to ear.” Fucking Roose Bolton. What a cunt. Catelyn Stark died thinking he had her family slaughtered. A gruesome last impression.

“My lady, I was present when Ser Jaime met with Roose Bolton. The Mummers brought us to him. There was no way he could have colluded with the man without my knowing. We were little more than prisoners to him. Bargaining chips more like. He sent Jaime to his father in hopes that he could avoid punishment for Jaime’s maiming. It was done by his men. By the Mummers. Then he gave me to Vargo Hoat. But Ser Jaime saved me.”

“Yes. Yes. He leapt into a bear pit and rescued you. We’ve heard the tale enough.” Said piss-cloak. “Is that how he won you?” The man demanded of Brienne. “It must have gotten you wet, being saved by such a hero. You spread your legs for him right then and there?”

“Brienne is a maid.” He found himself defending the wench, as if he meant to duel this urine-soaked sod for daring to besmirch his lady’s honor. I smashed Ronnet’s face in for insulting you wench, why not this dog as well? If he ever deigned to remove the Hound’s helm that was.

The brothers only laughed.

“Tell us another one, Kingslayer.” The one-eyed outlaw pleaded gleefully. “She must have a sweet cunt to be worth a jewel encrusted sword as payment.” He wouldn’t know. The blonde thicket that lay between the wench’s legs flashed before his mind’s eye. He’d gotten a glimpse in the bathes at Harrenhal. But he’d never tasted it. Nor learned how good she’d feel when he slid his cock inside. Gods help him, was he regretting the fact now?

“Not many whores fetch such a price as rubies and gold. Even far prettier ones.” A brother with a longbow added tauntingly.

“Enough of this.” Thoros of Myr pleaded. But the band of men were reluctant to give up their fun.

“Our lady is not offended.” Protested one. Their lady seemed concerned with little more than his death. The creature regarded him with unrelenting hatred. It was unclear if she registered much else.

“And the whore should be used to it by now.” Added some oaf. He found himself wanting to throttle the man. Or any of his brothers. How long had Brienne been mixed up with these rats? Had they trapped her? Beaten her? Worse?

“I am not his whore.” Brienne’s determined voice cut through. “Ser Jaime tells it true. I am still maiden.” It should have made him sick how relieved he was.

“The Kingslayer’s whore lies.” Piss-cloak asserted. “She chose sword but failed to do her duty. Just as she failed you the last time, my lady. She is his. Two lions. Let them hang together.”

At this, Stoneheart turned her malevolent gaze to Brienne.

“My lady, please.” Brienne pleaded. “It is not so. I am as far from a beauty as a woman can be.” Yet no woman had more beautiful eyes. “He would never have me.” Protest caught in his throat. “I speak on Ser Jaime’s behalf because I know he has done his part to fulfill his oaths to you. Just as I am doing mine now. You once promised to ask no service of me that would bring me dishonor. I am telling you my lady, nothing could dishonor me more than to take the life of the knight who has saved my own. I ask that you allow Ser Jaime to be judged by the gods. I ask that you allow me to stand as his champion in a trial by combat.” He was as shocked as the rest of them. Although, he really shouldn’t have been.

Stoneheart let out her infernal crocking. He was damn sick of the sound.

“She names you false friend.” Started the northerner. He was damn sick of him as well. “Lover to a man who murdered her blood. Lover to a man who to this day threatens her blood.”

“But...” Brienne attempted to interject.

Neither Stoneheart nor the northerner would be interrupted. “With a trebuchet.” They hissed in near unison. _Fuck._

“That’s right.” Piss-cloak chimed in. Happy to twist the knife. “We’ve heard it from old Tom who has been keeping an eye on the Lannister camps for us. “Your ‘Ser Jaime’ threatened to catapult Edmure Tully’s own baby over the walls of Riverrun. This is your changed man.”

He saw the news hit Brienne. Devastation blooming in her blue eyes. He could practically feel her disillusionment. “Is it true?” She asked him. She had no right to look at him as if her heart were breaking. Not after what she’d pulled.

“It was a bluff.” He heard himself explain. Not to Stoneheart, but to the wench. “I had to break the siege. If I had used force, how many Tully loyalists would have fallen? How many innocents within the castle walls? I kept the surrender bloodless. I kept my oath. No one was hurt.” Did she believe him? Did she understand? He couldn’t tell. “I saved Edmure Tully’s life. The Freys were going to hang him.” He assured her, pleading his case. “Did you hear that?” He yelled to Stoneheart. “I saved your brother and I have him. If you want him back, let Lady Brienne go and give her this boy she seeks. If you still hold him. It’s a fair trade, she’s never been anything but loyal to you.”

The unintelligible hissing ensued. More like a snake than a toad this time.

“She will not haggle with you, Kingslayer. She wants to know if Lady Brienne still intends to champion the man who would murder a babe?”

For an instant he didn’t know what he wanted her answer to be. Then he recalled the state of her. Refuse. Forsake me. Leave before the noose finds its way around your neck as well.

“Don’t.” He whispered to her.

“I will fight for him.” She called out, ignoring him completely.

“False friend.” They named her. Stoneheart and the Brothers alike. “Whore.” Only Thoros of Myr kept silent. None of these fools could fathom how wrong they were.

“Who will face me?” Brienne demanded unflinching. “May the gods judge us justly.”

“We serve but one god here.” Said the pissed-stained bastard. “But I’ll be happy to cut you down.”

He misliked this with every fiber of his being. The sun had already begun to set. It was a bad time for a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback would be great. 
> 
> Also, if I deleted your comment. I'm really sorry. Did not mean to. :(


	3. Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late.
> 
>  
> 
> [Protection Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/151114873379)

All that mattered now was that she won. For Jaime. For Pod.

The boy was being held at the Crossroads Inn, Lem had said after she’d pressed him. Hyle was there too, he claimed. She did not trust the man. _But could not bring herself to think the boy could be..._ Nor could she think on Jaime’s misdeeds. _To have threaten a babe was..._ She shut the thoughts out cold. If she faltered now, they were all lost.

May the Warrior grant her strength. The Mother mercy. She was weak now. She knew. She’d been given less than a fortnight to recover before she was sent to fetch Jaime’s head. But broken bones took nearly a moon’s turn to heal. Worse, the exertions of the day’s ride to Jaime’s camp and then back again had done her no favors. She did not care how badly she hurt. Did not care if the burning itching agony of her cheek plagued her to no end. It was her decreased agility that troubled her now. The lack of strength in her arm.

Lem was a big man. Almost as big as she. Brawny too. As she stood, her chances against him were not good. Yet she had _Oathkeeper._ Even now it gave her such comfort to have the blade in her hand. To know that Jaime had given it to her. She’d sworn once to protect him. She’d sworn it in front of Lady Catelyn herself. She would give all that was left of her to see that oath through.

***

There were less than ten minutes of day light left. If that. The sun already fading behind the horizon and casting the sky a deep purple red. A couple torches had been lit around the area where the wench and piss-cloak were to fight. The brothers and Stoneheart gathering as if spectators out for sport.

He would confess to everything if he thought it’d put an end to this madness. But they’d hang the wench right along with him, just as piss-cloak had suggested. She was forever branded a traitor in their eyes. _His whore._

Not that a win would grant them their freedom. There was no way in all the seven hells that Stoneheart was letting either of them walk out of here alive. The wench would have to cut down every last brother for that to happen.

 _You should have taken my fucking head, Brienne. Could have done it quick. Before I suspected anything. It would have been easy._  

He’d been so taken by her sudden reappearance in his life. He'd ignored the glaring red flags. No need to watch his back with her. A maid of the fiercest loyalty. The gods were cruel. To both of them.

And what outcomes were left to them now? She’d fall and they’d hang him. Or she’d win and they’d hang the both of them. _He had to get ahold of a sword. Nothing was worse than being left to stand by and watch._

She was squaring off with Piss-cloak now. At full strength, there’d be no contest. She would annihilate the man. As she stood, it’d be a miracle if she lasted too long. True, Piss-cloak would seem formidable to most. But the wench, as she was meant to be, was something else. Quick as a cat and lissome. Utterly unencumbered by her size. Unrelenting in stamina. Of frightening strength. And so damn crafty. He had to smile as he remembered the great boulder that had come crashing down atop Ser Robin’s galley. Warrior let her have even half her natural talents for this fight.

Things started off predictably enough. Piss-cloak lunged. She danced away, but slow for her. If the Warrior would not grant her speed today, then mayhaps her strength would carry her through. She hit him. Yes. But her swing was compromised. Not nearly as forceful or as accurate as she needed it to be. She should be inflicting much more damage. She struck him again. Yet Piss-cloak was able to block and withstand the blow with ease. It was like the bear pit all over again, yet this time she was armed with Valyrian Steel. Not some tourney sword.

By her third swing the truth of it became clear to him. Her arm was broken. Her arm was fucking broken.  

A young brother he’d never seen before came upon them. “She’s in no state for this.” He hissed to no one in particular as he joined their party. His head snapped back looking to find any ally he might. He did a double take. It was like seeing a ghost. The blue eyes. The jet black hair. The build. He was one of Robert’s. Without a doubt. What were the odds?

Just as quickly his focus snapped back to Brienne. She’d let out a heartbreaking groan as Piss-cloak had slammed into her.

The wench had started at a disadvantage and it was only going to get worse as the fight continued. Though she did hold fast and maintain her balance. Faking right and then ducking to his left, so that she was able to shake him off. He came swinging after her however.

As the last of the day’s light was fading into night. There came some birds. He wouldn’t have noticed with his eyes fixed on Brienne, except they were quite loud. Their persistent cawing summoning more and more of their brethren. Did they smell death?

Piss-cloak was on her hard now. Striking at her furiously. She blocked him every time, their swords clashing and scraping together until sparks flew. But then he’d just rail into her harder. Blow after blow. So brutal it was a wonder her arm had yet to snap. He watched in horror. The pounding of his heart so rapid it resounded in his head. The next blow could be the one to write an end to her sword arm.

Then there came such an infernal racket that even Piss-cloak had to take note, though his blood was singing. Brienne used the distraction to break free. Putting some distance between herself and her opponent. Piss-cloak let her be for a moment as he looked around at the swarm that was now upon them. Up in the trees. Whether a murder of crows or an unkindness of ravens he could hardly tell in the dark. 

“They’ve come to feast upon your corpse, whore.” He taunted Brienne.

 “Or yours.” He yelled to the brute on Brienne’s behalf. She did not have it in her to speak just then, she was breathing so hard. 

“We’ll see about that Kingslayer.” Piss-cloak yelled smugly as he charged Brienne. She sidestepped him just in time and danced away. He charged her again, and just missed her. He remembered how she would slip away from him when he’d fought her. Again, and again, and again. That’s it wench. He’s nothing more than a bull. Make him run and charge. Then stick him.

But the woman who was fighting now had been pushed past the point of exhaustion and they all knew it. How much more could she possibly take? Was the agony of her fractured bones consuming her? Or had the fight in her numbed some of the pain?

He had no intension of watching her be cut down. If she collapsed, he'd run to her. They could cut through him first.

Stoneheart’s death rattle tore through the sounds of steel on steel and the cawing of birds.

“She says the noose will have you soon.” The northerner informed him.

“If Brienne falls, you won’t be able to get it around my neck quick enough.” He yelled to the both of them.

“You hear that boys. The Kingslayer loves his whore, so.” One-eye tittered.

“Never fear, Kingslayer. She loves you too. You should have heard her calling your name when the fever was upon her. Jaime. Jaime. JAAIIMEEE.” Piss-cloak recited in a booming voice. “You gonna cry, Lannister? When I take her from you? The way your lot took my wife from me?”

The man turned but an instant to glance his way. It was all she needed. The wench lunged and drove Oathkeeper under his chainmail and straight in to his belly. It was such a clean, smooth cut it had taken the oaf near a full second to realize he was dead. He’d gone to one of the seven hells with the Hound’s helm still on his head.

“He won’t be crying for me.” Brienne whispered to the dead man as she pulled her sword from him. The blade now coated in thick dark blood that glistened oddly in the torch light. Almost like flames.    

“She killed Lem.” One-eye yelled in rank disbelief. “The Kingslayer’s whore killed Lem.

“I did.” She owned without hesitation, not realizing she was owning the name as well. If she was going to answer to Kingslayer’s whore now, shouldn’t they also be fucking? “The gods have judged Ser Jaime innocent. He must be released.”

Stoneheart hissed seethingly.

“She says she allowed you to fight Lem only to test the extent of your disloyalty. She says she never agreed to your terms. She says she will not allow the Kingslayer to escape justice by using the same tricks his own imp brother used.”  

“But the gods have judged him innocent.” Brienne stubbornly protested. “If you hang him now, you will be profaning their judgement.”

“Don't you get it, bitch?” One-eye shouted. “We follow R’hllor.” Grief and rage having now set in on the man. “Thoros give him the kiss. Bring him back.” He urged. “Then let us hang the lion whore and her lion love. Piss on the Seven. Piss on the old gods.”  

These birds that had joined them must have flown down from the North. They took great offense at One-eye’s words. Their cawing growing to near deafening levels in response as they swarmed all around. Hundreds of them flying from tree branch to tree branch and passing right above their heads as they screeched hellishly.

 He felt it then. Amidst the insanity. Something. The wench surely felt it too. They both turned towards the Brotherhood’s cave. Those pale white roots. They were weirwood. It was as if he could see the face of a great white tree with blood red leaves and blood soaked eyes. A voice from far away calling them. Claiming they still had a part to play.

In the distance they heard the howling of wolves.

Whatever was about them, Stoneheart must have sensed it too. Mayhaps knowing she was to be robbed of her vengeance.

“Jaime. Get down.” Brienne screamed as she swung Oathkeeper, striking the place where he’d been just a half-second prior, and taking Stoneheart’s head clean off. The dagger the creature had intended to plunge into his heart only piercing him lightly, as first her head and then her body hit the ground. Brienne had saved him. Again. _His protector._

Despite the chaos of the birds and the howling that had grown alarmingly close, all eyes were fixed on Brienne. No one fully comprehending what had just happened. Least of all Brienne.

Thoros, who had been praying over Piss-cloak’s body, was the first to come running to the side of their slain lady. Lost and demoralized, the red priest did not notice that he had snatched his sword from its scabbard until the blade was already in his hand. Or if he did, the man made no move to stop him.

“Forget the noose. Kill them with whatever blade or bow and arrow you have at hand.” Demanded the northerner in his lady’s wake.

Furiously, the brothers charged them as the beasts came rushing in from the night. The camp quickly overrun by an absurd incoming of wolves. A pack so large it beggared belief. They ran straight for the lot of them, looking to feast on whatever flesh they could sink their fangs into.

 A long bowmen aimed and shot at them, even as the wolves descended on him. The arrow missing Brienne by inches.

“Tell me what has become of Podrick. If he’s been hanged I must know.” She yelled uselessly into the scrambling confusion that surrounded them. “I never meant to betray her.”

“Run.” He yelled as he pulled her along. “We did not survive all this just to get eaten by wolves or done in by archers. To the horses.” He hissed into her ear. “Now.”

She left with him. Running like mad. More than a dozen times having to swing her sword at the beasts that came bounding after them. Most ran away yelping after having felt Oathkeeper’s kiss. He’d managed to stick a few with his clumsy jabs as well.

Robert’s bastard came chasing after them. He’d had the sense to take a torch and was using the flames to fend off the wolves.

“My lady, Pod and Ser Hyle are not dead. Or at least they were not last I saw them.” The young brother told Brienne running beside her. He'd been the only brother unsaddened by Stoneheart’s end. 

“Where are they?” She demanded franticly.

“I helped them escape a day past. Stoneheart was to hang them before your return. They meant to find you but could not take the main roads for fear the Brotherhood would recapture them. They feared to cut through these woods for that same reason. I know not where they’ve gone. I was supposed to be searching for them all day, but did not look so hard.”

Clear relief was etched on the wench’s face. _Who were these companions that she sought so desperately? Now there was a Ser Hyle as well?_

The horses were in an utter state by the time they reached them. Stomping and snorting. Their panicked whinnys drawing the wolves to them.

The young brother brandished his torch at the beasts as he helped Brienne clamber onto her mount as best he could. She was so battered. Then he did some clambering of his own. The last thing he needed was to lose a foot to one of these flea-infested demons. He’d have a hard enough time staying on his horse as it was.

“I am grateful to you, Gendry.” She told Robert’s son.

“Me as well, my lady, for what you did.” He responded clumsily as he climbed onto his mount. The young brother plainly unaccustomed to speaking so politely to others but making a rare effort. He must have owed Brienne greatly. 

Just behind them appeared a monstrous wolf. For gods’ sake, was every last tale true? The three of them bolted, or better yet, their mounts did. The great beast did not chase after them, but instead bayed mournfully at the moon. 

This did nothing to calm their horses.

Branches scratched and tore at him as Honor ran into the night. He was sure he’d smash into a tree at any moment. All he could do was cling to the animal’s back. Willing his mount not to stray too far from Brienne.

Who could say how long the ordeal lasted. It seemed interminable to him. But abruptly, his mount stopped, having finally put an adequate distance between itself and the great wolf. He was sure he’d never find the wench. Not in these dark woods with only the moon and stars to guide him. And every tree looking like the last. He wasn’t entirely sure they’d gone in the same direction after a point. She could be miles away, he lamented as he desperately fought to catch his breath. But then he could hear her calling his name.

“I'm here, my lady.” He shouted back gratefully. His heart pounding in his chest. He raced to her as she raced to him.

“I’m here too.” Gendry warned them awkwardly.

“Are you well, my lady?” He asked Brienne, feeling the boy was intruding. If they'd been alone, he’d have forced the wench to show him the extent of every last injury she had, whether she liked it or not.

“Well enough to continue.” She answered after some hesitation. Very convincing. Every last broken rib you had is probably in a worse state than when you first broken them. He wanted to say. And he did not want to think about her arm.

_He hoped she was not mourning that creature._

“We need to find a maester.” He said, mayhaps more forcefully than he’d intended. 

“I know not where we are.” Brienne confessed.

“I do.” Gendry offered. “Or at least I know my way back by the stars. If we follow the Moonmaid, we should hit the Saltpans in some hours. Though you won’t find a maester there. You could come back to the Crossroads Inn with me. Jeyne will tend to you just as she’s done before. She’s still grateful.”

“No.” Brienne said too quickly. She was afraid of that place. He could hear it in her voice. “I mean, I know not what became of your brothers. If they live, it would be bad for all of us if I were to be found there. But I know a place close to the Saltpans where there is a skilled healer. He will help me.”

“Mayhaps that’d be for the best then.” Gendry conceited. 

They followed him for ages. Mostly in silence. Until they finally reached a place that smelt of salt and smoke. The Saltpans. Though it was too dark for him to make out much of the devastation, he was aware that he was passing through an utter void. An entire village burned to the ground by savages.

That’s where they parted ways with Gendry. He headed North as they veered South East.

“Where are we headed now, my lady.” He asked Brienne once they were finally alone.

“The Quiet Isle.” She informed him. But did not say much else. Opting to expend her energy on riding instead of talking. She was worsening.

They were passing through a wooded area some time later when she began to sway.

“Stop.” He yelled as he jumped from off his mount. He made it just in time to break her fall as she slipped from her saddle and slammed right into him.

He hauled her up as best he could. She’d always been heavy. Like a ton of bricks. But there was a stiffness to her now that made her even more so. If he let her go just then, she’d fall. But that was only half the reason he held her to him so adamantly. He needed her close. He needed to touch her. Just for a second he told himself as he pressed his cheek to hers. She was burning up. He’d suspected as much. Despite the heat, he nuzzled against her face. Needing to feel his skin against hers. His lips against her. Needing to inhale her scent.

“Jaime.” She murmured.

“How are we to get across?” He whispered against her skin. Not a hundred feet ahead he could see the mouth of the Trident through the trees. It’s black waters sparkling beautifully in the moonlight. Her Quiet Isle must be nearby.

“We’ll have to wait for the tide to recede.” She warmed him.

“But that could take hours.” He complained. He did not know if they had hours to spare. She was in such bad shape.

“The tide will be at its lowest at sunrise. We will need the light to cross. There will be quicksand.”  

 “Do you know the bandage on your cheek is soaked with blood?” He asked her gently.

 “It’s nothing.” She said turning her face so that he could not see.

 “It’s the source of your fever. A dirty bandage is no good.”

 “I’m better now, Jaime.” She said as she tried to gain her footing. She wanted to pull away. He did not relinquish her.

“You are not.” He protested as he persisted in holding her to his chest. His hand coming to caress her uninjured cheek and then up across her brow. He had the pretense of feeling her temperature. And he was doing that. They had to do something to break the fever. She was growing sweaty. She’d be shivering next. But he was also touching just to touch. His hand slipped into her hair. The brittle limp yellow straw he’d thought so ugly, now more precious to him than spun gold. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of it against his fingertips.

“How far off shore is this isle?”

“A half-mile. I’ll show you.” This time she was determined to stand on her own. She led her horse to the water’s edge. He followed with Honor in tow, noticing how it cost her to walk just that short ways.

He thought he could see the isle out in the distance. The moon was bright. “I’ll swim across to get help.” He said mostly to get a rise out of her.

“You will not. There are currents and who knows what is in these waters at night. The Trident feeds into the Bay of Crabs. There could be anything.”

“You just think I can’t swim anymore.” He baited. But she did not bite.

“It won’t be too long, Jaime.” She said as a cool breeze blew over them. Let it stave off the fever, he prayed to the gods for the thousandth time that night.

***

Dawn came. With it the mudflats that stretched out past the Quiet Isle. Gulls flew all around as if to meet the morning sun. Searching for clams and cockles on which to feed. She did not feel hungry, though she’d not eaten in over two days. The pain and dizziness driving all desire for food out of her mind. Her cheek was a pit of searing torment to her. She could feel it swelling, festering, with every moment that passed. Her arm, she could not move. Her ribs likely cracked or bruised all over again.

She did not like to think on it. Nor anything else. Ser Jaime had remained with her. What he meant to do, and what he thought, she dared not ask.

“We must go due east, towards the deeper waters of the bay, then approach the isle from there.” She warned him. In truth, she hardly remembered all the steps Septon Meribald had shown her. And they were atop their mounts, which was foolish, but necessary for her. If she had managed not to murder him, not to get him hanged, and not to get him eaten by wolves, she was like to get him swallowed up by the mudflats. Gods help her, she felt she would fall from her horse again. She’d land in the soft sand and sink below, she thought.

As luck would have it, they were spotted as they approached. Brother Narbert, Brother Gillam, the grave digging novice, and even the Elder Brother himself came rushing to meet them.

“Lady Brienne.” The Elder brother cried. “We heard what had happened to you. Come my child, I must see to you at once.” She did feel quite unsteady. Cold. Then hot. Her vision blurry. Her cheek throbbing.

“You.” She heard Jaime exclaim once the brothers had joined them.

“Ser Jaime Lannister.” The Elder Brother said knowing him on sight. He seemed concerned. She wondered why.

“I don’t care.” Jaime said frantically. “I have no business with the man. Just help her. She’s already fallen from her horse once. She can hardly walk.”

That was true, she thought, and closing her eyes, fell.

At times she could hear the men’s voices, they were moving her, carrying her, hoisting her up. She would cry for Jaime when she could not hear him.

“I’m here.” He would say. “I’m right here.”

She could tell when she had been brought inside. They laid her down on a bed. Her body hurting so badly she started weeping. No longer able to hold the tears back. Jaime was there with the brothers. He made her drink something. Said it would make her better. She felt it still her, leaving her hanging half in dream and half awake, but no longer spinning.

They were removing her armor. 

"They hanged her." Jaime raged at some point. He must have seen the marks around her neck.

Then the Elder Brother told her he was to remove the bandage from her face. “No.” She tried to say but could hardly form the word in her mouth. She did not want Jaime to see that too. She tried to move away but he was already pulling the sticky gauze from her cheek.

She heard the Elder Brother gasp in alarm. Heard Jaime let out a cry of horror no different than the sound he'd made when he’d lost his sword hand. “What’s been done to you?” He demanded as he was dropping to his knees besides her. He was holding her hand. Suddenly covering it with kisses and pressing it to his face. “No. No. No.” He chanted brokenly against her palm. She could feel his hot wet tears. Jaime was crying. That was the last thing she remembered of that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review. It really helps me to write more.


	4. Reluctance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reluctance Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/151213400694/jb-appreciation-week-2016-day-4-reluctance)

He stood at the door, telling himself to get on with it, Brother Narbert was expecting him. But he could not get his feet to move just yet. What if she called for him in her sleep and he was not here to soothe her?

Indulgently, he walked back to her bedside.

The Elder Brother had been giving her dream wine for days. “Better she rests in a mindless slumber than be alert enough to suffer the beatings her body has taken.” He’d advised. But she was to be weaned off today. He had half a mind to request she be kept on the stuff for another week. In the few hours she’d been awake last night there’d already been foolish protestations that she was recovered. Better, yes, but not nearly enough for his liking. The wench was too stubborn to convalesce properly.

Since he’d set foot on the Quiet Isle, his world had shrunk to Brienne’s fever and Brienne’s wounds. He’d laid next to her for four days and three nights, fearing she might succumb. Contemplating the horrors that had befallen her. Then he’d known the mercy and relief of having the fever break and the swelling subside. He was eager for her to return to herself. And to him.

Kneeling besides her he snuggled close, finding it impossible to resist the impulse to trail small kisses from neck to brow. She sighed happily.

“You’ll be up and walking in days the Elder Brother tells me.” He whispered to his sleeping maiden. “I know it to be true. I can see it in your face. I can feel it every time I touch you. Your strength returns, my lady. As will I. Very soon. I’ll not let them chase me off. No matter how improper.” He promised, stealing one last kiss before heading out.

 

***

“Ser Jaime.” Brother Narbert called sternly. “You took so long I almost came to fetch you myself.”

It was the first time he had ever heard the man utter a word. They only speak one day in seven. He recalled. Lucky that day was upon them. He had gathered that Brother Narbert had much to say to him. Speech or no, the man had concocted a plot to have him dragged from Brienne’s bed chamber. Their grave digger was to do it. He could imagine himself, a one-handed cripple, having it out with a limping silent Hound. _And they’d once been at the top of the lists._

The Elder Brother had put a stop to it. “Lady Brienne may parish at any moment. We must be merciful and allow Ser Jaime to remain by her side until she either passes or makes a recovery.” He’d said.

“I was tending to my lady.”

“She has been doing quite well, the Elder Brother tells me.”

“Thanks in part to my _constant_ care.”

“Given her recovery, it is high time you came to join us in the men’s quarters.” Did he honestly think they were fucking? It’d be at least another week before they could even dream of attempting it, and even then he’d have to be extremely gentle. He’d treat her as if she were made of glass.

“She likes me to be near her.” He said simply. He would not leave her to her nightmares. He would not leave her to cry in the night as she called for him.

“Ser Jaime, you care for this woman, love her even, I do not doubt it. Under other circumstances, I would urge that you wed Lady Brienne as you have slept under the same roof unchaperoned. But given that you are ineligible, there is little that can be done for the sake of her honor. As things stand, it is best to leave her be. Let her find a man who can wed her.”

Truly, fuck his life. He had joined the Kingsguard to be with the woman he loved, and now it was the very thing keeping him from taking her to wife. All because he’d loved the wrong woman and made the wrong choice. Now the right woman had come and he was expected to leave her to another? It was intolerable.

“The Kingsguard no longer serves for life.” He informed Brother Narbert coldly. “Ser Barristan the Bold left due to age. I lost my sword hand and can now fight no better than the greenest of squires. A man who cannot fight has no business wearing the white. I must find another way to serve my king.”

He could admit to himself that love had changed his view of the matter entirely. But wasn’t this the truth of it? He was shit with a sword now. Could he not better serve Tommen as the Lord of Casterly Rock than as the crippled Lord Commander?

“If you say you can wed, ser, then I urge you to do so promptly. Lady Brienne has done a great deed. One which has garnered her a fair bit of fame around these parts of late. Enough that even we on this isle have heard the tales. And with such fame comes rumor and infamy.”

This caught his attention. “I know nothing of this brother, what deed?” _What rumor? What infamy?_

“It is said that Lady Brienne slew the Mad Dog of Saltpans with a magic lion sword. And saved an entire horde of orphaned children in doing so. That is where she earned the savage injury upon her cheek. A mark left by the monster who brutalized countless women the night the Saltpans burned. Thus, some have taken to calling her the Lion Maid. A great strapping maiden who travels these lands with a golden Lannister sword at her side. Valyrian steel they say. The sword has become a particular point of fascination among the small folk. Yet sadly, there have also been tales that say she is no true maid at all. It has been said that she was once lover to the Kinslayer and that she was given the lion sword as payment for having lain with him. Even as she is revered by many for her noble deed, others have named her the Kingslayer’s whore.”

“A falsehood. Brienne remains untouched by any man.”

Poor wench, gossip spread like wildfire in these lands. Some believed her his whore, some believed her to have fought a bear naked. Having slayed the Mad Dog of Saltpans was a courageous act indeed. If she had been born a man, she’d have earned herself a knighthood. The lords of the Riverlands should laud her as their champion, having rid them of a horrendous beast. The villain was said to have been a monster in human skin, guilty of ghastly atrocities. Most believed this Mad Dog to be none other than the Hound himself. They could not imagine what had become of Sandor Clegane.

“True or false, the tale itself is enough to bring the lady shame.”

“Then I will have to speak to the maid when she rouses and beg her hand. They can hardly call her my whore if she is my wife.” He told the proctor thinking that had settled their business. It had not.

“That is not all, Ser Jaime. As a lord you have led a life of luxury, but here on the Quiet Isle all men must serve. It is beyond unseemly for a man to lounge about in a maiden’s bed. Today you’ll work in the kitchen and help to prepare lady Brienne’s breakfast. You may tend to feeding her, but after that you are to join Brother Gillam, who has much need of an extra pair of…” Brother Narbert caught himself. “He requires aid with many tasks.”

The audacity of the man inspired respect. To have the gull to put a member of House Lannister to work was something few could muster. But his gratitude to this little isle went past rank and pride. The brothers would have more gold than they knew what to do with. He’d see to that. And he would serve. He owed them an endless debt.

  
***

She’d been out of sorts all yesterday. As all the days past. Groggy and dozing. Her clarity of mind not returning to her until late in the morning. And with it a torrent of concerns.

Ser Jaime had spent the night in the woman’s cottage again. As he had done for nearly a week. It was her fault. She’d been the one to cry and moan whenever he stepped away, not having the sense to keep her mouth shut. Her greediness for him untoward. He owed her nothing. Less than nothing. It was unforgivable. How she had lied to him. The horrors she had dragged him into. And for what? She knew not where Pod was.

She’d tell Ser Jaime that he must take his leave of her. She would not keep him one more day.

He was out now, raising a fence with Brother Gillham of all things, but would be returning soon for lunch. He had made it a habit of bringing her meals to her, feeding her when she could not feed herself and then dining beside her.

Foolishly her heart kept yearning for his return, craving his presence so badly she could not keep her gaze from fixing to the door. Not ten minutes later it flung open. Jaime came in with a tray of food. Maiden help her, he was unbearably handsome.

“You look well, my lady.” He said softly. She had never looked well a day in her life, least of all now. “Healthier. Your color returns.”

“Yes. I am much better now.”

“But you still have a great deal more recuperating to do.” He reminded her. She did not want to think on it, restless as she was. _Sansa. Arya. Pod. All out there. Somewhere._

“How has your day been, ser?”

“I think Brother Gillham has just about had his fill of my help.” He said as he set the tray on the table by her bedside. “I’m as useless at building fences as I am at wielding a sword.” He confessed as he pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

Goodness, everything about him was comely to behold. His golden hair. His smile. His bright green eyes. She could not say why exactly, but suddenly she was besieged by the beauty of the man. The cut of his jaw. The cut of his body. Tall. Broad of shoulder. And he was being so courtly with her. In truth, he’d been tender to her for days. Most likely out of pity. He ought to be wroth.

And he ought to be appalled by her foolish gawking. But was not. If anything, he seemed well pleased. His eyes burning like liquid fire as he sat back smugly in his chair, smiling at her. Letting her look. His eyes fixed on hers, he bit his lip, as if he were biting back some great pleasure. Even to one such as her, the overt sensuality of the act could not be missed.

She cast her eyes down. Fearful and ashamed. She was blushing she knew. He stirred things in her she had never known before. Or if she had felt them with Renly, they had grown with alarming acuity since then.

“Are you to be my shy maid?” He asked her silkily as he raised from his seat and preceded to crawl into the bed with her, not merely seating besides her but actually pinning her to the head board.

“You mustn’t.” She warned.

“I’ve slept in this bed the same as you and held you much closer than this.” He informed her. She knew. She’d felt him all along.

He kissed her softly upon her lips. She would have moaned had she not stopped herself.

“You mustn’t do that either.”

“I’ve been kissing you for days. Did you not know?”

“I… I thought it was a dream.” It had felt like a dream.

“Do you often dream of my kisses?” He teased her as if she were a pretty maid he meant to woo. She would not answer. “How do you know this is not a dream?”

“I don’t.” She said stupidly. She knew full well.

He kissed her again. Forceful and yet still treating her delicately somehow. She made a sound of weak protest.

"Shh. If this is a dream, then it shouldn't matter if I kiss you." 

She yielded so fast it was shameful. Readily opening her mouth to his insisting tongue. Wanting to taste him. Letting her tongue slide against his as her hand came to cup his handsome face. The need to touch him so strong.

He sighed happily against her mouth even as she would have persisted. “See. That was so deliciously sweet. You learn fast, my lady.” No. She’d always been slow. “Why leave such pleasures for dreams alone when we can have them every waking day.” He asked her, nuzzling his nose playfully against hers. “Just wait until you are healed.” He threatened with wanton smile and heated eyes. “I won’t hold back then.”

“You are not to be with me by that time.” She told him plainly.

“I am.” He contradicted defiantly.

“What of your duties, ser?”

“Riverrun and Raventree have both bent the knee. The King’s peace has been kept. No blood lost on either side. I am to return to the capital in due time. The state of King’s Landing is lamentable and I intend to aid the young king in all I can, but I am to set aside my white cloak.”

“How are you to set aside oaths made for life?”

“The crown itself has set those oaths aside. Ser Barristan was made to retire his cloak. I shall do the same. A kingsguard ought to have a sword hand.”

“If you are no longer a kingsguard, then you will be…?”

“Why Lord of Casterly Rock of course. Free to wed and _bed_ the maiden of my choosing.” He’d been sure to emphasize bed. His meaning plain. He meant to wed and bed her. Her heart was racing in her chest. A frantic glee overtaking her for half a second before she forced herself to be rational. “I shall get on one knee and make my formal offer.” He said moving to do just that.

“No!” She shrieked, griping his shirt to forcibly stop him.

“My, your strength does return. Am I to write to your father first?” He demanded, his anger rousing hotly.

“You are to return to your life, ser. I’ve kept you long enough.”

“You could be my life.” He roared passionately.

Why Jaime would deign to bind himself to one as wretched as she, she could hardly fathom. No man wanted her. Caron had died before he could reject her. But Connington had refused her on sight. His disgust flagrant. A rose all she would have of him. Even Wagstaff, a mere castellan, had opted not to wed her after she’d failed to submit and had instead broken his collarbone and two of his ribs.

And Jaime had seen the wreckage of her cheek. Not that she had ever been anything less than ugly. As a girl her septa had held a looking glass up to her face and shown her the truth of it. No man could ever love her. The best she could hope for was for some man to wed her for her father’s gold and her father’s lands. She had always known that. Known she could not have Renly though she’d loved him so. Just as she knew she could not have Jaime, regardless of what he said.

“I am as fit to be a wife as I am to be a knight.”

“Then I shall be the luckiest man in all Westeros." He said finding her objection ludicrous. "You’re a bloody fantastic knight. In deed if not in title. You’ve slain the Mad Dog of Saltpans. Do you have any idea how many of my men wish they could accomplish such a feat? If Strongboar had managed it, he’d be crowing about it to the heavens right now and drowning himself in glory. How many hundreds of lives have you avenged Brienne? How many more lives have you saved?”

She knew not how to respond to his words. She’d barely survived her struggle with Rorge and Biter…

“You think far better of me than I deserve, ser. But I cannot wed you, I have so much to answer for.”

He was angry with her, finally as he should be, but for the completely wrong reasons.

“You’re a pig-stubborn wench.” He told her crossly. “But on this I can match and beat you, I won’t accept your refusal. Eat your food before it gets any colder, and think on the matter.”

“Things are as they are, ser. No amount of thinking may alter them.”

He flinched at her words. Standing up from the bed he marched to the door, mayhaps needing to put some distance between himself and the one who had wounded him so.

“If you don’t marry me today, then I will be forced to sleep in the men’s quarters tonight.”

“As is only proper.”

“You’ll miss me at night when you have a nightmare.” He said before leaving her.

She knew he was right. “Wait, Jaime!” She called for him.

He came back, eyeing her reproachfully.

“You’ve left your food.” She reminded him meekly.

“I’m not hungry.” He told her coldly before walking right back out.

He did not return for the rest of the day, nor that night. Her dinner was brought to her by Brother Narbert, whose day it was to speak. He had much to say to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please review! I need feedback.


	5. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait.
> 
>  
> 
> Check out my [Betrayal Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/153143195409/jb-appreciation-week-2016-day-5-betrayal)!

_She led Jaime through the mist, his hands bound in irons. All around them dead men hanged from bare black trees. At first she thought them knights who’d been waring in the Riverlands. But no. She saw Big Ben Bushy among the hanged. And Farror. And Will the Stork. These were the knights of summer. All unfit to withstand the winter that had come. To her horror she found herself amongst the hanged. She’d been strung up in her blue armor. Her rainbow cloak a tattered ruin._

_She wanted to scream. But could not. She had bitten off her tongue ages ago, when Jaime had given her the rose. Now she had no means to tell him to run, even as she dragged him to his doom. Whether noose or sword, it made no matter both came to the same end._

_Ahead death awaited. It took two forms. A hooded woman and a colossal bestial figure in the Hound’s helm and a yellow cape. Both stood framed by a blood red sky._

_They would take Jaime from her if she let them._

_She pulled out Oathkeeper, only to find that her magic sword had been stolen. Swapped with a common blade. She wanted to cry. To scream with utter despair. The beast came hurling straight for her, shrieking savagely. She lunged at him. The blade piercing through his belly. He never felt it as he knocked her to the ground. His massive weight pinning her. Crashing her. Forcing all the air from out her lungs._

_She struggled furiously beneath him. Kicking. Punching. It made no matter._

_The Hound’s helm fell open. It was not Lem nor even Rorge who peered from inside. But Biter. His sharp pointy teeth glistening with saliva. She’d known it was him. It was always him. She screamed as he descended upon her, feasting on the rest of her face one hungry bite at a time. At least her tongue had grown back._

_“Guilty.” The hooded woman hissed._

_"Jaime!" She cried. Stoneheart was sure to hang him now that she had lost._

She awoke in a cold sweat. Horrified and sickened. On the verge of tears. Shaking.

"Jaime!" She cried a second time knowing he could not hear her. If she hadn’t refused him, he’d be with her now. The instinct to run to him, to literally run out into the night and across the isle to where she knew the men slept was so strong she had to repeatedly will herself not to do it. Her breath remained a flurry of ragged pants, even as she fought for control. She could not surrender to panic. Panic had never served her. These nightmares were the consequence of a guilty soul, and she could not hide from her sins, neither in dream nor in life. There was no course but to take responsibility. A relitigation was in order.

Of those she’d wronged, Jaime came rushing to the forefront. She’d betrayed him. Lied to him. Endangered him. Pulled him away from his duties to his king. Hurt him with her refusal.

Next came Lady Catelyn. Whom she’d failed and betrayed. Failed to protect her. Failed to find her daughters. Inflicted a second death upon her. The cruelty of all that had befallen Catelyn Stark was more than she could bear. To have had a hand in further aggrieving the ravished soul of that once brave and noble woman was excruciating beyond belief. Tears run down her cheeks. It hurt so much to think it, but she forced herself on.

She’d failed King Renly. Failed to protect him. Failed to avenge him. His bones lay somewhere she knew not while Stannis Baratheon still drew breath. That was not all. There was also a betrayal of sorts she felt. Once her king’s bright smiles had been all the world to her. Now she struggled to remember his face.

She’d failed Pod too. A kinder more loyal squire there’d never lived, though she was no knight. The boy had been captured and hanged because of her. He would be dead now were it not for Gendry.

And if that weren’t enough to leave her twisting in shame, she had the scolding Brother Narbert had given her to chasten her further.

It had been a chastisement worthy of Septa Roelle. What she did out in the world was between her and the gods, the brother had said, but since she had slept alone with a man here on the Quiet Isle, he would not leave her uncounseled. A woman of honor should consider her reputation, lest her improprieties mark her for life. He expected her to wed Ser Jaime at once. “The Seven will not look kindly upon a maiden who throws away an advantageous and necessary marriage for no good reason, and you have no good reason, Lady Brienne.” He had assured her.

It wasn’t as if she had wanted to refuse, she huffed in frustration. She craved Jaime with a voraciousness that outright frightened her. The warmth of his caress upon her as she lay sick and injured was a kindness she would cherish unto death. In truth, she’d grown so spoiled by the comfort of his company, his absence now left her cold and empty. At times her need of him growing near unbearable. The memory of his kisses filled her with a furious wanting that would not let her be. If she were his bride, no woman would be happier. She wished she could know what it was like to be loved by him. To have his touch all over her body. The thought was a guilty one. How could she marry when so many of her oaths remained unfulfilled? She was not free to go to Casterly Rock or King’s Landing and be a wife. She would never stop searching. Not for Sansa. Not for Arya. Not for Pod.

She wished she could speak with Jaime though. Wished for the right words that would persuade him not to hate her. As fate would have it the opportunity presented itself much sooner than she would have expected.

***

He opened her door to find her lying in bed.

“You are awake.” He told her. “And you nearly let your fire burn out.”

“You should not be here.”

“Too bad.” He said as he latched the door shut and went to the hearth to get some flames going again.

“The brothers won’t like it.”

“They can scold me soundly on the morrow then, if they discover me missing before my return that is.”

“Jaime.” She called for him as she was getting out of bed. “Jaime, I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?” He asked her as he approached. She’d been crying. Even in the dim glow of a meager flame he could see one tear stained trail down her unmarred cheek. The other having been soaked up by her bandage.

“Very sorry.”

He pulled her close. Kissed her. It made it better, that she kissed him back, that it only took the gentlest of coaxing to get her to slid her timid tongue against his and return his passion. _She tasted so delicious._

“Get back in bed.” He urged. “You should be resting.”

“I was resting before you came.” She protested as she climbed back under the furs.

“You were fretting. Did you dream again?” She did not answer, but instead chewed her plump bottom lip. He’d been witness to her night terrors since they’d arrived. It tore at him that he’d left her alone. “I meant to come sooner, but I was being watched.” He told her as he kicked off his boots. It’d taken more than half the night for all the brothers to finally fall deep enough asleep.

“Do you mean to stay long?” She asked unsure.

“Yes.” He informed her as he crawled onto his side of the bed. To his relief she did not order him off.

“Tis just as well, I must have words with you, ser.” She said, again with the needless formality.

“What about, my lady?” He indulged teasingly. 

“Everything.”

“A broad topic. I am all ears.”

“How is it you are not wroth with me?”

“I am. You sent me to sleep elsewhere when I like to be here by your side in your bed.”

“That is not what I speak of, ser, as you well know. I told you a deceitful tale and led you into great peril.”

“Because the reanimated corpse of your late lady and a band of outlaws hanged you, held the life of some child over your head, and forced you into it.” He said, wroth at what had been done to her. “I suppose I could be furious that you chose some boy over me, except you didn’t. You chose me the second you told me to run.”

“I chose sword prior to that. I betrayed you then.” She agonized. Her shame cutting her as deep as the foul teeth of the monster who had savaged her face.

“Tell me my lady, was there a noose around your neck when Stoneheart put the choice to you?”

“Yes.”

“And what of your companion, the boy you call Podrick? Was there a noose about his neck as well?”

“They were hanging him.” She admitted woefully. The memory causing her great distress. “I could not watch the boy die. Not like that. That is what forced my hand, ser. Elsewise, I would have hanged.”

“You did hang.” He reminded her harshly.

“I did. I meant elsewise I would have hanged and died.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He roared. It drove him mad to know that she had been hanged. That she would have let herself be hanged. “I thank the gods you chose sword.” He told her unequivocally. _They would have strung her up and left her to rot swaying from some tree. And he would have never known what had become of his Maid of Tarth._

“How can that be?”

“Because if it’s your neck in a noose or my head, then it’s my head. This isn’t new, wench, or have you forgotten that I would first have a bear tear me to bits before I let it get to you?”

“You are too loyal to me, ser, and in the face of my treachery I hardly deserve it.” For fucks sake. The fact that _she_ was saying this to him was so utterly preposterous he could hardly stand it.

“And what of my betrayals? What of the ways I’ve wronged you?” He demanded.

“You have never betrayed me.”

“I put you up to this finding Sansa Stark business. Left it all to you, when it was my duty as much as yours. For all we know the girl is likely dead.”

“But we don’t know for sure.” She objected mulishly. “I must find her or spend the rest of my life trying. I must find Arya too. I promised Lady Catelyn.” He wanted to yell at her. To force it into her thick head that he wasn’t about to let her throw her entire life away. But there’d be little sense in saying it now when she was so raw.

“I should have never left you to go up the King’s Road alone.” He lamented instead. More to himself than to her. That was the shame that cut him, as deep as the arakh that had taken his hand.

“You had your duties to your king, what else were you to do?”

_His duties? All he’d managed to do in King’s Landing was free his brother who then killed his father. Though that wasn’t entirely fair, he’d also succeeded in standing around a great deal._

“I should have gone with you. Taken you to Tarth. Taken you back to the Rock. Anything else.” If he had, she’d be whole now.

“Why would you have taken me to the Rock?” She asked uncomprehending.

His eyes met hers with naked wanting. Covetous. One look letting her know better than words ever could that he would take her to the Rock for the same reason that any man would want to abscond with the maiden he desired. She blushed.

It was too much. Everything. All of it. He came to her then. Kissing her. Wrapping his arms around her. Minding to be gentle. Caressing her hungrily with his lips.

“Forgive me.” He whispered between kisses.

“You’ve done nothing.” She contested.

“Surely you jest. I’ve done so much I scarcely wish to list it all. What of the Tully babe…? Can you forgive me for that?” This was the judgement he feared most. Other offenses she had made her peace with. This was his freshest crime. “It was to keep my oath. I raised no arms against Tully nor Stark. I spilled no blood.”

“But you would have, if it had come to that?” She asked pained.

“I would have.” He admitted darkly. “And died bit by bit from it, until there was nothing of me left.” Genna had been right. He was not his father’s son. “I do not want to be that man, Brienne.” He said her name as if it’s mere utterance would grant him absolution. “Do not think me so foul.”

“I am no one to judge you, ser.”

“Yours is the only judgement that matters to me. You told the Brotherhood I was changed. Do you think it still?”

“Yes. I know it. I have seen your honor. I am alive because of it. Anyways, it is I who must beg your pardon.”

“You have it already.”

“Thank you.” She breathed in humbled gratitude as fresh tears caught in her lashes. “I…”

“And my pardon?” He interrupted. “You’ve yet to say.” He kissed her again, wishing his lips could persuade her. “Forgive me. Have me.” _Let me have you._

“You are forgiven for all you feel you may have done against me. But I know naught of having you, ser.” She said turning scarlet.

“That I would teach you.” He promised. 

“Would you like that?” She asked shy and disbelieving after some hesitation. She didn’t get it. That she was arousing him. Tempting him. That the thought of getting to teach her how to fuck had his cock straining in his breeches.

“Like nothing else. I _need_ it.” He confessed with unleashed hunger. She regarded him with sapphires opened wide in frightened bewilderment. _So fucking innocent._ “You want me too. In your bed. Holding you. Loving you.” He informed her brazenly. “You would call for me in panicked cries every night when terror came to haunt your dreams. Only my kisses would calm you then. There isn’t a single freckle on your neck I haven’t tasted, you know.” He said then licked his lips recalling the memory. “You would moan and sigh happily and beg me never to stop.”

“I knew not what I was saying. The fever…” She exclaimed flustered.

“You said you loved me once, when I whispered how much I loved you.” She gasped. “Was that just the fever too?”

He could feel his own heartbeat thrumming in his chest as the question lingered between them. Every second that past a year.

“No.” She mumbled with eyes down cast.

“See. You want me. Just as I want you.” He insisted vehemently, his hand coming to cup her chin, gently lifting, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“But how can you? I’m so ugly. You’ve said so yourself.”

“And aren’t I sorry now?” He bit back resentfully, unhappy to have that thrown in his face. “Be smug, wench. Laugh at me.” He pleaded. “But leave those words to remain in the past.”

“Why would I do that? Be smug and laugh, I mean?” She asked genuinely confused.

“Because I talked so much shit and yet the second I caught a peak at those blonde curls of yours I got absurdly hard. Be smug for that. Laugh at me for that. Or because literally everyone has taken it for granted that I’ve had you and the fact that I haven’t has been driving me utterly insane.” She was stunned if not scandalized by these revelations. He didn’t care. “I want you. Forget what I said so long ago. Much has changed since then.”

“Yes. I’m even uglier now.” She reminded him obstinately. “Scarred.”

“Do you think I give a fuck? I have scars myself. Or is this your way of discouraging a crippled suitor?”

“That matters naught to me.” She said aggrieved on his behalf. Hurt that he would even think such a thing.

“Prove it, then.” He pressed. “Kiss me.” His need violent as his mouth hovered over hers. She did. Giving him the urgent hungry kisses he so greedily demanded.

“You are no less to me.” She proclaimed amidst peppered kisses, her uninjured arm coming to wrap around his neck.

“I am literally less.” He laughed.

“Not to me.”

He kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. Devouring her as if they were about to fuck. “Tell me if anything hurts.” He urged, aware of how carried away he was getting.

“Nothing hurts.”

“Brienne.” He warned.

“Nothing hurts when you’re kissing me, Jaime.” She said so adamantly, he could hardly argue. Instead, he eagerly fell back into another heated exchange. Delighting in her. The excitement electrifying. Unable to resist any longer, his hand came to cup her breast.

“I have nothing there.” She exclaimed fearful of disappointing. He ignored her. Pulling her into a deeper kiss as he gently palmed her teats through the roughspun sheath she wore. She arched into his touch almost instantly, letting him, losing herself to the new sensation. He loved it. The thought of the coarse fabric rubbing against her nipples enticing him to no end. Pretty soon he’d have to suckle those rosy buds to soothe them, he thought wickedly.

Fuck. He wanted to touch her more. Everywhere. Make her feel good. He’d be so soft and tender with her. She deserved that. To be spoiled. Pampered. She deserved pleasure. And he was going to give it to her. She’d like it when he slipped his hand between her thighs and slowly worked her until she forgot all but his name.

She gasped as he gingerly plucked a pert nipple. He wanted to play.

“Like that?” He asked while resting his forehead against hers and peering into her blue eyes, the beautiful sapphires that had enchanted him. She moaned helplessly in response as he continued to gently fondle her little teats. “I like it. It’s so sweet, to see you flushed and aching with need. To know you are loving my touch. We should be making love to each other every night, my lady.” He murmured. “Wed me. Let us share a bed.”

“I’ll lay with you, Jaime." She told him breathless. "You needn’t marry me first.”

His hand stilled. A flood of rage battling with lust at her response. As if he would be contented with a single night. And yet she had just promised sex. A fact not lost on him or his cock.

“So we’d fuck and then what? Go our separate ways?” The thought had his heart twisting in his chest. “How can you be so damn insistent that we respect the rules of this place, and yet say you’d take me between your thighs without wedding me?”

She gave him a sorrowful look. “We’ll be parting soon, Jaime. But if I could have you even once before then, I would.”

“Do you want to be known as my whore?” He demanded, shaken by her admission. Part of him would be pleased if he weren’t so irritated. Clearly whatever Narbert had said to the wench had fallen on deaf ears. He’d sent the brother to her in hopes he could persuade her to reconsider his proposal. A fruitless ploy evidently.

“It is not something I wish, ser. But people will think it regardless.”

“Not if you wed me, they won’t.”

“But I needn’t marry. Not to restore honor to my name, or for any other reason. I must resume my search.”

“I am in love with you.” He hissed angrily, feeling himself bloody jilted. “ _I_ need to marry you. I’ll follow you if you mean to leave me behind. I’ll join you if you’ll let me.”

“You’d go with me?” She asked in surprise.

“To the Wall. To Dorne. To Essos.”

“But…”

“If you love me, you cannot leave me. That is the betrayal I will never forgive.” He said furiously. He stood and sliding on his boots he walked out. The sun having just risen.

“Jaime.” She called clambering after him out into the cold. “Do not leave angry yet again.”

“Get back in bed, Brienne.” He ordered.

“I will not.”

He stalked back to her in no mood and expecting a fight. To his astonishment she pulled him into her arms the second he was within reach, their lips meeting frantically as they kissed each other.

“Marry me.” He begged.

“But I must fulfil my oaths.”

“I can aid you. With my father in the grave and my sister imprisoned no harm need come to any Stark or Tully.”

“The Queen has been imprisoned?” She asked in utter shock. 

“Yes. She’s been charged with a litany of crimes and happens to be guilty of every last one."

“How is it you are not with her then?”

“I have my duties to Tommen and my duties to you. But none to her. The ties that once bound me to my sister have been severed irrevocably.”

“And when do you intend to see your King?”

“My uncle will be in the capital by now. That gives me ease. He will do better by Tommen than his mother ever could. And when I return to King’s Landing with my young bride, I shall serve my King well. A marriage between the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Lady of Tarth will keep West and East firmly united under the crown.”

As if the gods meant to bless their union the morning sun shined brightly down upon them. This isle was a pretty place, he thought. Fine for wooing. Even as the mudflats laid bare to all the birds that descended upon them in frenzied search of feed.

“Jaime, you will surely be caught now.” She said noticing the time.

“The scolding will be well worth it.” He assured her smugly while walking her back into the cottage. He wanted nothing more than to latch the door behind them, crawl back into bed with her, and resume the pleasures they’d been enjoying.

“Are you to work with brother Gillam today?”

“Dammit. Yes.” He admitted reluctantly. 

“Be off then, ser. I will be here when you return.”

“Not unless you agree to marry me today.” He demanded playfully, desperate enough to try anything.

“That’s hardly enough time. We’ll need a septon.”

“Tomorrow at the latest.” He allowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review. :)


	6. Longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. This chapter took ages to write.
> 
>  
> 
> [Longing Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/154903112279/jb-appreciation-week-2016-day-6-longing-better)

He returned to the kitchens, having been relieved of his duties by Brother Gillam. His help to be inflicted on another. Just as well, he was done with raising fences. 

A laugh nearly escaped his lips as he envisioned Lord Tywin’s reaction to the knowledge that his firstborn son had spent the morning enclosing the grazing pastures of sheep. Fortuitously, his father had been spared this indignity. Come to think of it, he should thank the gods that Brienne had not been around to witness the spectacle either. He’d dropped dozens of posts and on the hillside no less. Fetching them had become a constant headache. _Aside from fighting, had he ever been a handy man? He could not recall._

And what of it now? He was a one-handed crippled, pining for a wench. How much use could he possibly be to anyone at the moment? He craved Brienne, and cared for nothing but getting back to her.

Strolling into the pantry, he was set on finding some snack to bring to the maid. Then he’d make his way to her cottage, pretext in hand. He’d need it too. She was like to send him packing if she believed he was shirking his duties. To his surprise the Elder Brother came upon him as he searched for cheese and dried fish.

“Ser Jaime, has your day’s work come to an end so soon? 

“As it would seem, though I did all Brother Gillam would have of me.” And Brother Gillam had had quite enough.

The Elder Brother frowned. “Tomorrow we shall find a more suitable task.” Was there any? “However, I am glad to report that your lady is doing quite well.” He already knew, though it was good to hear just the same. “I am impressed by how quickly she recovers. She is a hardy lass.” The hardiest. _Thankfully._ “I encouraged Lady Brienne to return home when last she visited this isle. My intent merely to spare the child from the horrors that have plagued these lands. But I see now that she was right. In her selflessness, she defended the most vulnerable of babes and children." And paid a steep price in doing so. "Her bravery and resolve an example to us all. In a way, lady Brienne has restored my faith. Not in the gods, whom I've never doubted. But in the goodness of men and women.”

“A truer knight, I’ve never known.”

“I would agree.” The Elder Brother concurred, having known his share of knights, he’d wager.

“Do you not find it strange that such a virtuous maiden would wed a kingslayer?” He asked despite himself, finding it passing odd that the brother had never admonished him for the sin that had damned him so many years ago.

“You love her and are good to her. Why should it be strange?”

He raised an eyebrow at the man. They both knew better.

“I am a firm believer in redemption, Ser Jaime. What you do going forward is what matters. The past is done.”

“Redemption?” He scoffed. “Even for the likes of me?” 

“Especially for one such as you, ser.” The brother said, not unkindly. “Do you intend to visit the lady now?”

“Yes. I thought to bring her something to eat in case she was too hungry to wait for her next meal.”

“A fine idea. She should eat well as she is still regaining her strength. Although, our young heroine may like a tastier treat than dusty old fish. Mayhaps you would be so kind as to give her this small favor on our behalf. We are very grateful to her.”

He was more than happy to oblige and considered himself lucky no less. The Elder Brother was a generous man who had done him many a good turn, and continued to do so. Had he run into Brother Narbert instead, he’d have likely spent the rest of the day attempting to peel a potato and failing miserably.  
 

***

Stepping out of the tub, she began toweling herself off, only to turn with a start at the rattling of the door. 

“Why is this locked?” Jaime complained from the other side. “Let me in.”

“I was bathing.” She informed him, reddening. “You are much earlier than I expected you, ser. Mayhaps you can return at a later time.” She proposed, her heart languishing at her own suggestion. 

“I cannot.” He said as if it were completely out of the question. “I come bearing a gift. Sweet honey from the Isle’s own hives. It’s a wonder I haven’t dropped it yet. Open up, before I do.”

“But I haven’t dressed. I am still drying off.” She explained. Dropping her towel, she scrambled to pull her shift over her head. Her wet hair dampening the garment and causing it to cling to her body.

“I can help with that.” Jaime offered shamelessly. She found herself not nearly as scandalized as she was tempted. If she opened the door he’d... It made her dizzy to think it. 

He pounded insistently against the wood, using his golden hand no doubt, and making an unnecessary racket just to get his point across. He wanted in. She unlatched the door.

Jaime pulled it open to reveal himself. His green eyes blazing with heat. 

“The Elder Brother wanted you to have this, my lady.” He informed her while presenting her with the pot of honey. “As a token of the brothers’ gratitude for your great work in protecting the orphans of the Saltpans.”

“I am honored.” She said receiving the gift. Not knowing what else to do or say, she retreated back into the cottage to place the honey pot upon her bedside table. She heard as much as felt Jaime latch the door shut behind him. 

“Would you like some?” She offered. 

“Of my maiden’s honey? Oh yes.” He said as he snatched up her forgotten towel.

“Then help yourself, ser. There is bread here.”

“I will.” He assured her, coming to stand right up against her from behind. “But I should caution you, I’ll only want more and more after getting my first taste.”

“You may have as much as you like.” 

“In that case, I’ll take every last drop.” He warned before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck and making her shiver. “And lick that sweet honey pot clean.” She wouldn’t have minded if he did take all the honey for himself. She’d never been one to indulge in sweets. Though it seemed a great excess.

But Jaime did not bother with the honey at all. Instead he brought the towel to her hair.

“I am to help.” He reminded her as he began to dry the drenched tresses that dripped down her back. Closing her eyes, she savored his touch. It was not lost on her that she was alone with him in a barred room. All the brothers busy with their day’s work and well on the other side of the isle. 

She turned to face Jaime in a whirl, their lips meeting with an eagerness neither could contain. Directly his arms were wrapped around her as he kissed her, holding her as if she were some small and delicate thing he meant to cherish. 

“I’ve missed you the whole day.” He murmured against her skin.

“Yes.” She moaned breathlessly in agreement having done the same, though he’d been gone but a few hours.

“You can’t know how much I want this.” He proclaimed. But she could. She did. Or at least she knew of her own wanting.

The wanting that had her melting into him as his hand was smoothing down her back, going lower and lower, until he was stroking the curve of her bottom. Her willingness, however, did not make her any less frightened. She had long ago set aside the notion of one day laying with a man, and now found herself woefully ill-prepared. 

Roelle had counseled her to be sure. But such counsel hardly seemed to apply. Her septa had meant to brace her for a husband who would not want her. _“Do not expect many kisses on the night of your bedding, or there afterward, with a bride such as yourself the act will surely be brief and out of duty.”_ Yet with Jaime…

“Let’s get this off. It’s all wet.” He murmured before slowly hiking up her shift. Her heart already beating fast, began to pound as his hand slipped underneath. “Shh.” He soothed while caressing her naked skin. “It’s going to be so good.” He promised. Cupping her backside, he molded her bare cheeks in his hand as they shared kiss after kiss. He indulged in that for a time before he was back to undressing her. Her shift being brought up higher and higher.

He’s seen before, she reminded herself, and she’d been in a state back then too. Back when she’d stood naked before him in the baths at Harrenhal. All bruised and battered. Though admittedly, this time she was much worse off.

He moaned the moment her sex was revealed. “That’s the honey pot I want.” 

A girlish panic griped her all at once. “Jaime, I… I knew not of that meaning.” She cried finally putting it together. She meant to lay with him, but what exactly had she offered?

“You said I could have all of your honey.” He teased.

“That is not honey.” 

“It is. The sweetest kind.” He informed her, his hunger plain as he removed her garment. 

“But…”

“Lay, my lady.” He pleaded, his hand caressing down her side just as his gaze caressed down her naked form.

She did. Awkwardly. Watching him remove his boots as he ready himself to take her to bed.

His delight in her body beggaring all belief. She was so unlike the type of lover he’d be accustomed to. Not fine and womanly, but large and muscled. What’s more, her sword arm was in a splint and her entire body had become a mosaic of ugly bruises and even uglier scars. She did not dare wish herself more beautiful, but did she have to be so damaged at such a time? Hurriedly, she pulled the furs to her. 

“Don’t.” He discouraged, settling not besides her but at the foot of the bed. “Look, I’m no better.” He said, tossing off his shirt. 

To her astonishment, Jaime was covered in all manner of barely healed welts, though they did nothing to lessen the devastating force of his beauty. He remained chiseled and golden beneath the fading marks. Not a single one capable of truly marring him.

“How did you come to have so many injuries, ser? Were you so badly hurt during our escape?”

“That played a part. But most are the consequence of vigorous sword practice. And it is not so cold now that you need be under the furs.” He said drawing them away. Then hesitating but a second he cast off his golden hand as well. She was both humbled and honored by his trust. _And owed him the same._

Then he was crawling up her legs. Literally crawling. His head lowered, he kissed a trail from ankle to mid-thigh. At which point he began nudging them apart. She let him. “I love this.” He murmured, running his nose along her pale freckled skin. His eyes asking as much as demanding.

“What would you have of me, ser?” She asked very much needing instruction. 

“I’d have you lay back on the pillows more comfortably, let them prop you up.” She adjusted herself. “And I’d have your thighs spread for me. WIDE. With knees bent and feet planted flat on the bed.” She forced herself to comply. Terrified. 

“So pink and glistening already.” He uttered huskily, coming to kneel between her open legs. His eyes transfixed on her sex.

“Is that to your liking?”

“Would you like to see how much to my liking it is?” 

She nodded yes. Not trusting herself to speak just then.

She watched with eyes wide as Jaime sensually eased his breeches down his hips. Proudly, his powerful shaft came bounding out. The sight shocking her and causing her core to clench hungrily from deep within. Her eyes lingering over his sex as he stripped himself bare. To her fascination his member was topped with a pink mushroom-like head. It wept at the tip. The sticky droplets making him glisten as well.

“And it is to be inside me?” She asked all too eagerly, her wanting obscene. 

“Absolutely. But we’re going to have to work up to that. I’m going to spend ages preparing you first.”

“So you won’t be taking my maidenhead?”

“Not just yet.” He said running his hand up her inner thigh. “We’ll hold off until your ribs are fully healed.” 

“That could take days.” 

“It will. I’m not going to put weight on you or bounce you around until I’m sure you’re well enough for such activity.”

“Then what are we…” His fingers began to stroke her. She moaned. Her eyes fluttering at the pleasure of it. It felt so good, the way he was touching her.

“I want this to be all about you.” He purred. _That didn’t seem fair._ “I want to have you for myself. I want that honey. I want these.” He said leering at her teats.

“They are nothing.” She bemoaned, already half crazed by what he was doing to her. His fingers rubbing her in quick circles, focusing their attention on the nub just above her opening, causing a tightness low in her belly.

“Not nothing. I want them. Are they berries?” He asked before taking one into his mouth. Helplessly, she began mewling as he suckled, finding the sensation most pleasing. “Or better yet, are they rosebuds?” He asked before taking the other. She didn’t know what they were. Just small. 

That didn’t seem to matter though. He was enjoying them. A boyish smile lighting up his face every time he went to suckle a nipple, or flick it with his tongue.

“Do you like this? How I play with your little teats and tease your luscious blonde cunt?”

“Yes.” She sobbed.

“And it’s only going to get better.” 

“How?” She asked unthinkingly, unable to fathom ‘better’.

“Are you ready for me to have a taste?” He asked licking his lips. 

She nodded her consent tensely. 

He stretched himself out before her, as if she were an altar and he had come to worship. 

Laying on his tummy, he gave her a stunning view of his backside, his head between her thighs. His fingers spreading her pink folds as he explored the most intimate part of her. It was shocking, to be so utterly exposed. She would have surely clamped her legs shut had it not been for the unmistakable pleasure he took in baring her so completely. It made her feel rare and beautiful, the way he looked at her, as if she were truly some delicious treat he meant to savor. 

His tongue darted out provocatively, running over her sex, as he watched her watching him. She let out a startled cry, alarmed by how achingly good it felt. With that, he began rapidly flicking his tongue with every frenzied lap that he gave her. Making a wild show of pleasuring her. She found it as lascivious as she did arousing. 

It was impossible not to move against him. Luckily, Jaime seemed to enjoy that too. He encouraged her bucking enthusiastically, as he drove his tongue deep within her. Seductively, he echoed the act of love making. Preparing her for what was to come. Before she’d even realized it, he had begun filling her with a finger. “You are _SO_ tight.” He hissed. 

Was that bad? She wondered. Feeling some discomfort as he continued to enter her. But it was quickly eclipsed by the merciless licks he gave her. His tongue dipping appreciatively between her folds. She moaned shakily, noticing how his hips would sometimes grind into the mattress as he tasted her. “Jaime.” She called adoringly, loving every moment of what he was doing to her.

In response, he buried his face between her legs, uncompromising in the pleasure he pressed upon her. Making her feel it until he had her on the verge of tears. It was _so, so_ good. To the point of devastation. 

His finger curved upward inside her, touching some magical spot, just as his tongue was frantically teasing at her nub. Nothing could ever be better, she thought before he fastened his mouth over the buddle of nerves and suckled.

She screamed. Lost in the onslaught of pleasure. All she could do was thrash. And buck. And get absolutely wrecked. Her climax hitting her in waves. One after the other. So powerful the bed shook.

“You’re going to be coming like this for me. every. single. day.” He told her, nuzzling his nose into her folds and greedily inhaling her scent. As if he couldn’t help himself, he went back to lapping at her hungrily. And kept it up until she was fighting him off, the sensation becoming too much for her. Even then, he just dipped his finger into his mouth, as he came to kneel before her, relishing every last taste. “I told you I’d never get enough. I just want to lick you all over again.” 

“But what of your need?” She asked attempting to get a grip and all too aware of the long thick pillar that stood angry and erect before her. “You must be pleased as well, Jaime.” 

“You’ve been pleasing me since you let me in the door.” He said crawling over her and caging her to the bed.

“But not to completion.” She noted shyly.

“I’ve nearly come a dozen times already.” He informed her hotly, his mouth just over hers. Teasing her with the promise of a kiss. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been not to spill as I’ve licked you? How badly I’ve been wanting to stroke my cock as I’ve tasted your rosy teats and honeyed cunt? How badly I still want to?”

“Why don’t you, then?” She asked, determined he should have his pleasure. It wasn’t mere fairness that concerned her now. She _needed_ to know what it was like when he came. She craved it as much as she had craved her own release. She would have offered to please him herself had she not lacked the skill.

“Fuck.” Jaime growled before descending upon her as a lion would descend upon his quarry. His tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. 

He had her tasting herself as he devoured her. Taking. Claiming. Yet still refusing to put his weight on her. He was back to kneeling between her opened legs, his right forearm bearing some of his weight. His searing kisses trailing down her throat, down her chest. Until, wildly, he claimed one nipple and then the other. Switching feverishly between the two, he suckled lustfully. Making her writhe beneath him as he began pumping his manhood in his hand.

Needing to touch him, her fingers drove into his golden mane. Each caress she gave causing him to moan around her teat. With green eyes locking on hers, he released her nipple, and came for her lips.

“I wish I was inside you.” He told her hungrily, kissing her. “You’re so sweet down there, Brienne. I can’t wait until I’m fucking you. Tell me you want it too. Say it.”

“I do. I want you, Jaime. Deep inside.” She confessed, aching for him. “I want to give you as much pleasure as you’ve given me.”

“Touch me then. Make me come.” He pleaded “Kiss me while you do it.”

Her hand reached for him nervously, instantly delighting in the feel of the velvety soft skin stretched over his garnet hard length. She was kissing him desperately as her fingers wrapped around his shaft. She’d watched how he’d touched himself and hoped she could do it just the same. Taking advantage of the moisture that trickled down from the tip, she began to pump him smoothly in her hand. 

“Just like that.” He grunted. Encouraged, she tightened her grip, set on making him lose himself to the same ecstasy he had wrought on her. He tilted his head to meet her gaze, his smile widening as he began to pant. “You’re so good.” She needed to be. Finding that it added to his pleasure, she began massaging the vein along the underside of his member with every stroke. That had him throwing his head back in delight. “More.” He begged. “Please.” 

She threw herself into it. Relentlessly. Loving what she could do to him. Wanting to prove herself worthy of his bed. It seemed almost sinfully decadent to be so wantonly pleasuring such a beautiful man.

“Fuck. You’re going to make me spill all over you.” He warned. 

She didn’t stop. He had asked for more. 

A deep groan escaped his parted lips as his peak fast approached. The force of his pleasure evident in the coiling of his muscles, the tightening of his jaw, the hand that desperately grasped at the straw mattress. The fury that rocked his body reminding her of the storms of her homeland. His seed shot onto her belly. The eroticism of the act thrilling her. 

“Fuck.” He said guiltily almost as soon as it had happened, though he could not stop drinking in the sight. 

He kept himself from collapsing on top of her as men were wont to do _after_. She’d been told of that. Instead, he came to rest his head lovingly at the crook of her neck, wanting her comfort as he fought for breath. 

When he was able, he fetched her towel, cleaning her and then himself. And having done so, he settled comfortably back into bed beside her, as if they did this all the time. His kisses coming to wash over her like rain.

"Are you peckish now?" He asked. "Surely, you'll want a bite after such play."

"I'll eat shortly." She answered, hardly able to think of food just yet. “But you mustn’t linger long.” She warned, hating to say it. “We’ve already broken too many of the Isle’s rules.”

“We just shattered them, my lady.” He told her smugly. “Not that they were worth keeping. I want to stay and lounge about in my maiden’s bed. I mean to sleep here tonight.” 

“You cannot.” She protested. “We’ve already had this discussion, Jaime.”

“We have. Why repeat last night’s mistake? You’ve been calling for me ever since you were hurt. I heard what the brothers said. Not the brothers of this isle, but those loathsome outlaws. They spoke of how badly you wanted me that night the fever first hit you. And you’ve been reliving the same ordeal ever since.” Embarrassed she tucked her chin against her chest, wishing she could make herself smaller. She’d been such a foolish girl then, calling for a man she’d had absolutely no claim on at the time.

“The things said in dreams are sometimes…”

“The longings of our hearts.” He offered. “You were calling for _your Jaime_ then, just as you’ll be calling for me tonight.” He said while cuddling her in his arms. “You love me as I love you. It’s only natural that you should want me with you when…”

“I do love you, Jaime.” She professed. Loving him so intensely it threatened to blot out everything else in her world. “But whatever I may dream, I will survive it, ser.” 

“And what of me? It kills me to know that you are alone and hurting.”

“Then you must have faith in my strength.” 

“Cruel wench.” He accused. “You leave me with no rebuttal. How am I to argue against your strength?”

“I do not wish to be cruel to you, my lord. But I cannot bear to give further offense to our hosts.”

“A wifely reply.” He mused. “Very well. I will sleep in the men’s quarters if that is what you ask of me. But this will be the _last_ night we spend apart.”

“Even wives and husbands spent nights apart.” She reminded him.

“Not us.” 

An argument was at the tip of her tongue but she held back. Neither knew what the future would bring. It made no sense to quarrel over it now. "Were the brothers very upset this morning?” She asked instead. “The Elder Brother did not mention it to me when he came to check on my injuries, and the brothers who brought my bath water did not speak at all.” Both had been a mercy to her.

“It was not so bad. Brother Narbert’s day to speak had past. That alone saved me a great deal of grief. What’s more, I informed everyone of our betrothal. The news quickly blunted their displeasure. The Elder Brother has promised to fetch a septon for us. He leaves on the morrow and will return before the sun has set.”

“That’s very kind of him.” She said still struggling to grasp the reality of their forthcoming wedding.

“Not having second thoughts?”

“No. It’s just that I never truly believed I would one day be a bride.” Or at least she’d not believed it for a very long time.

“You never thought to marry? Ever?”

“I was betrothed before but…” 

“I know of your betrothals.” He informed her jealously. “Three was it?”

“How did you come to learn of that?” 

“I met one of them. He mentioned it in passing.”

“Connington or Wagstaff?” She demanded in utter mortification.

“Connington.” She could feel herself scowl in response. Jaime laughed. “He is a worthless ginger cunt.” 

“What did he say, Jaime?” 

“Stupid things. Most not worth repeating. I had to strike him for speaking discourteously of my lady.”

“You defended my honor?” She asked in amazement. 

“As any knight would do for his maiden.”

“He would not have me. I was too ugly.” She confessed, compelled by some need to get it all out.

“Then Connington’s idiocy is my great fortune.”

“He gave me a rose and said…”

“That it was all you’d ever have of him.” He finished for her. “But you’ll have _everything_ from me.” Jaime declared. In one fell swoop promising her all her foolish heart had once longed for and all she had convinced herself she could do without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews welcomed and deeply appreciated. :)


	7. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Love Graphic](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/163039195539/jb-appreciation-week-2016-day-7-love-better%0A)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm back and ridiculously late with this. I hope you guys enjoy. :)

Asking a one-handed man to dig a grave was truly an act of cruelty. He kept making such tiny scoops it hardly seemed worth doing. The Hound was like to send him to “help” another, just as Brother Gillam had.

Gods. What he wouldn’t give to be abed with Brienne. To look into those deep blue eyes as he gave her pleasure. The hot wet stretch of her around his fingers, driving him mad with promises of what was to come. He wanted her. He wanted that sweet cunt. But instead of another chance at the maiden’s honey, he was condemned to this menial exercise in futility. He threw his shovel to the ground. Done. Though the day was young. The sky still pink with the morning’s sun. 

“Did you finally get sick of Joffrey?” He asked the hulking man laboring beside him, hoping to distract himself. The man gave no answer. Not surprising given he had taken a vow of silence. That made him no worse company than Ilyn Payne, he supposed. “It makes no difference to me.” He informed the grave digger simply. “Are you aware that you’ve been blamed for the Saltpans? Some outlaw took your helm. And another after him.” 

Sandor Clegane nodded solemnly. 

“I’ll set the record straight when I return to court. My lady is the maid who slew the true villain. I intend she get full credit for her courageous deed.” That seemed to amuse the man. He laughed silently as he continued his digging, but stopped suddenly and pointed out towards the mud flats. 

Three visitors and a beast approached. 

He decided he’d go meet them, thinking it a more productive task. It wasn’t until he reached the isle’s edge that he saw it was two men, a boy, and a large dog.

The boy and dog came bounding up to him, leaving their fellow travelers far behind.

“Goo…Good morrow.” Said the lad all stumbletongued. “We seek a lady. A great lady. Taller even than yourself. In men’s mail. With freckles. And yellow hair. And great big eyes of blue.” It was Podrick. It was her boy. 

“Then you seek Brienne of Tarth.” The boy’s eyes lit up at his words. He’d been as desperate to find Brienne as she’d been to find him. This scrawny youth of ten or twelve.

“Is… is she… heere?”

“She is across this very isle, resting in her cottage as we speak.”

The boy let out a sigh of relief. “I’m her squire. Podrick Payne.” 

“A Payne? Then I know your cousin.”

“And he knows your brother.” One of the man added having caught up. A plain man with a scar upon his face, most likely a hedge knight by the looks of him. He carried a sword and bore the sigil of a brown deer, bound and slung on a pole.

“Do you not recognize who this is, Pod? Why it’s Jaime Lannister. As golden and handsome as the tales would have you believe, though somewhat shabbily dressed. Where is your gold armor, ser?”

“Back at the Lannister camps in Pennytree. I seldom carry around suits of arms with me while I’m out with a maiden.” 

“It is him.” The boy interjected in awe. “I was the Hand’s squire. When the Hand was your brother, not your father. But then he left and I found ser, my lady.” 

Is that what the boy called her? It had him wanting to laugh. 

“She _is_ here.” The boy informed his companion. 

“See Podrick, I told you we would find our swordswench if we only kept searching.” _Their wench?_

“You did not.” The boy protested. “You said she was eaten by wolves.”

“And you are?” He asked the man.

“Ser Hyle Hunt. Has the maid not mentioned me?” 

“Not once.” But Robert’s bastard had.

“Greetings to you, ser. I am Septon Meribald.” Said the older man approaching from behind. What luck. 

“Greetings Septon. I am Jaime Lannister. It is good that you have come. Lady Brienne has need of you.”

“Is she very hurt?” The man asked with grave concern. Sorrow touching his careworn eyes. _The wench had assembled a motley crew of friends for herself it would seem. They cared for her. In varying ways._

“Fear not. My lady heals remarkably well. She is to be wed today. If you were to preside over our vows, it would be most appreciated.” All three newcomers were plainly taken aback by this news. The dog, however, sat beside them panting happily. Clearly he approved.

“Ser is to marry you?” The boy asked. Not displeased. Just shocked.

“She is.” He answered, hearing the pride in his own voice.

“Truly?” Hunt asked, eyeing him queerly. He seemed equally likely to laugh as to rage.

“I’ll take you all to her now. You can ask Brienne for yourselves.” She was going to be so pleased to see the boy, he knew. That had been weighing on her heavily. And with the septon here, they could marry within the hour. He’d have her for himself soon after, though not soon enough for his liking. These friends of hers and all the brothers could stand outside the door bearing witness to their bedding for all he cared. He was going to enjoy his bride. 

***

She had dressed properly for the first time since her clothes had been stripped from her in her fevered state. It felt good to wear smallclothes and breeches again. Having but a shift over her body was hardly better than being naked. Although, the garment did have its benefits she supposed, recalling how Jaime’s hand had slipped underneath. His caress all over her. Forcibly, she shook her head, hoping to cast off the memory. Her oaths would come to nothing but broken promises if she failed to persist in her duties. She’d been delayed long enough. 

Jaime had kept her restricted to her camber while she convalesced. But she was well now and could not afford yet another day of rest. She had to find Lady Catelyn's daughters. She owed that to her now more than ever. And what of Podrick? Her heart ached every time she thought of the boy. If the gods were good he was somewhere safe with Ser Hyle. 

Firstly, she was determined to regain her footing today. Simply walking would do the trick. However ghastly she may appear, her body was not so encumbered now. Her ribs hardly hurt at all anymore. Her sword arm, restless in its confinement, had regained its mobility. She would be able to wield Oathkeeper soon enough. That was a great relief to her. As was the state of the wound upon her cheek. It had fully scabbed over. 

She would resume her search on the morrow, she had decided, setting out with her… _husband_. The thought alone had her burying her blushing face in the palms of her hands. That was the other promise she had made. She was to wed Jaime today.

He would be reluctant to leave the isle so soon. She knew. But he had pressures of his own. His need to return to his king sooner rather than later would sway him. _And what would become of their union then? When he was forced back to the king’s side?_

She did not know. 

All she could do was pray to the Crone for guidance. Her mind failing to conceive of a more useful course of action. She knew naught of being a wife. If that weren’t enough, she would have to contend with Jaime’s displeasure at her having left her room when she “ought” to be resting. 

And he was displeased. She knew the moment she glanced him in the distance. “What are you doing up?” He demanded from yards away, rushing to her. He was not alone. Pod was with him! And Septon Meribald! And Dog! Even Hyle Hunt. 

“Ser.” Pod called for her.

She ran to them. As they ran to her. 

“I feared I’d not see you again.” She cried to the boy.

“I feared the same.” He proclaimed, reaching for her as if he might embrace her, but holding off shyly. She wished she could have held him, wanted to so badly, but was equally shy.

“How did you find me?” She inquired instead, awestruck by the luck of it.

Podrick took a deep breath, steadying his tongue. “We hid after Gendry let us go, but returned to the Brotherhood’s lair later on in hopes of rescuing you, my lady. We did. Not three days since.” She let out a frightened gasp. “We found no one living. Only bones picked clean and wolf tracks that led in every direction. After that we continued our search, given there was no sign of you. I knew your armor and sword would have remained had you been… well eeeaten. Then we came upon Septon Meribald and Dog. He suggested we return to this isle in case you had come here for help. And here you are.”

“It was the gods that led us back to you, lady Brienne.” Septon Meribald told her warmly. She smiled at him, happy to see that he too was safe and well. 

“I’ll give a prayer of thanks.” She promised the septon. “That I have been reunited with friends.” Dog concurred, asserting his presence with a friendly bark. She was glad to see the furry beast. In truth, seeing all of them had her near dizzy with relief. Hyle caught her eye.

“We all feared the worst had become of our brave knight. Yet here you are my lady, all but recovered and about to be wed. How fortuitous.” He said in his typical Hyle drawl. The blush returning to her cheeks at his words, she was sure. 

“Most fortuitous.” Jaime agreed sharply. “And with Septon Meribald here we may proceed with our union at once.” The last part was meant for her.

Her heart thrummed in her ears as she turned her gaze to him. Only to have him smolder at her the moment their eyes met. As if he meant to seduce her all over again. “You are supposed to be in bed.” He chided, his hand reaching for hers. But he did not seem so angry with her anymore. She went to him eagerly, wanting to feel him close. The need so great it trounced her embarrassment. Immediately, Jaime fingers interlocked with hers. His hold neither squeezing nor rough, but nevertheless unshakeable. He pulled her closers still, kissing her in front of everyone. It was difficult for her not to hide her face afterwards.

Oddly, she felt pity for Hyle just then, when she saw his smile fall. His plans to inherit Tarth had been thwarted. The stinging disappointment palpable. Whatever resentment she may hold for the man, he had looked after Pod in her stead, and for that he would have her gratitude. She must not be so harsh with him.

“I was told we had company.” Called the Elder Brother approaching with Brother Narbert and the grave digging novice in tow. 

“Indeed.” Jaime called to them. “Septon Meribald has come. It would seem the gods have provided what was most needed. Brienne’s squire is here as well.” That made her blush all the more. She was no knight.

“I was to fetch a septon for Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne to wed. It seems I readied a horse for not. All the better.” The elder brother explained happily to his friend.

“All the better.” Septon Meribald agreed. “Come, morning weddings are lovely, my child.” He said to her. “To the sept with you”. 

And so they went forming a procession. The lot of them walking to the wood septry of the Quite Isle. More brothers coming to join. Jaime insisting they walk hand in hand. 

***

They stood before Septon Meribald ready to become one in the eyes of the gods. Brienne flustered. Her cheeks so bright and freckly, had him longing to cover them with kisses. The cloak he had was tattered. But it still had the Lion of Lannister finely embroidered upon the back. It would have to do. And did. He loved placing it over her strong shoulders. After which, she did him the kindness of hooking the clasps herself. 

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my husband lord. Umm.. My lord and husband.” She corrected tripping over her tongue more than that squire of hers. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, as much from mirth as from joy. 

“With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife.” He said. His own vows coming smoothly, as if he’d been rehearsing them for weeks.  


They kissed each other slowly, blissfully. Basking in the beauty of their union.

“You have come here before The Seven, with the purest love for one another, wanting to become man and wife. By the powers vested in me, I name thee one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon pronounced. “May no man separate what the gods have joined.” 

And no man ever would. Nor woman. By the _old gods_ and the new. Hadn't he felt them there the night they had survived Stoneheart? Hadn't they whispered to him of their purpose together. He'd never spoken of it to her. Not wanting to sound mad. Mayhaps it was nothing more than some odd notion that had occurred to him when he'd thought they were to perish?

Did it even matter? They were bound now. That was the one truth he knew for a certainty. He belonged to her as much as she to him. _His_. This brave, stubborn wench. It was as if she were the only one in the room with him. The brothers and her traveling companions fading away even as they stood before him. He didn’t care for anything but his bride, and wrapped his arms around her lustfully, pulling her in for another kiss. One which she returned hungrily even as she reddened all the more. She was not such a stumbletongue when doing this.

“To bed.” He whispered eagerly.

“Yes. I want to, Jaime.” She whispered back, almost moaning a little. “But we must thank everyone and attend the feast… er meal… and I’d like to speak with Podrick too. Just a few minutes?” She pleaded with him. 

“But after that…”

“Yes.” 

Thus, at his bride’s behest he did his duty as bridegroom. Joining all to have an early meal. Thanking the septon and the brothers. Neither he nor Brienne eating more than a bite of the first dish. His mind focused on getting her alone while she was focused on speaking to her squire. He would get jealous if she kept this up. Quickly enough she had stepped outside with the boy, while he waited by the door.

It had been a simple ceremony. But pleasing. He’d found a rustic beauty to the septon’s words and to the septry itself. The Seven standing over them beneficently for once. Expertly carved from Oak. The isle’s countryside a worthy site for their elopement. They’d have a formal service once they returned to King’s Landing and again when they went to the Rock. Though he could not imagine she’d be very happy about it. He’d have the finest wedding cloaks made for them then. Rose and azure with crescent moons and sunbursts for her. Red with golden lion for him. And then they’d switch.

“Off to the bedding already?” Hyle Hunt inquired having sidled up to him. “You’ll miss the fish pie if you leave now. Or mayhaps not, I guess you’ll be enjoying your own slice in a sense.” The man chuckled. 

His gold hand itched to be cracked across the hedge knight’s face.

“Oh, she’s a fair bit sweeter than fish pie.” He informed Hyle smugly. And he would know, having already snuck a taste just the day before. So much honey. The memory had his mouth watering. He grinned at Hyle before taking his leave. Brienne had returned. 

“I won’t be delayed any longer.” He whispered darkly to his bride, before waving farewell to their wedding guests. Septon Meribald whistled jovially and Podrick clapped for them. The brothers remaining subdued and silent, yet the Elder Brother had laughter in his eyes, and Brother Narbert looked quite pleased that they had put an end to their sinning. The man had no idea. 

The walk back to the cottage was brisk and determined. The two of them beset with eagerness. He couldn’t have her soon enough, and for her part she seemed resolved on fulfilling her wifely duties. By the time he had barred the door, Brienne had begun to strip herself. There was nothing for him to do but follow suit. Then she was going about the business of positioning herself on the bed. Just as he’d had her the day before. All this without coaxing. 

Finally, she was bared and spread for him again. So ready. And he hadn’t even touched her yet. Just the mere anticipation had her honey pooling between her open thighs. It was more than he could stand. He licked his lips as he watched her, perched as he was at the foot of the bed, drinking in the full view.

She regarded him nervously. Expectant yet uneasy in her display.

Did she not know what she was doing to him? That she was on the verge of finishing him. And her big blue eyes. Fuck. The color was all the more alluring against her innocent flush. His bride was a willing maid. As wanton as she was pure.

He went to her. Desperate to be where he belonged. Nothing had made him feel more alive than the act of loving her. When their lips met, his hunger was beyond his restrain. It was the feel of her. Her scent. Her taste. He wanted to consume her.

A grateful moan escaped from him as she returned his fervor, her tongue slipping past his lips. Her needy kisses making him purr. Though he nearly bit down when her hand found its way around his cock. Already she knew how to work him just right. A prodigy in all manner of swordplay. He allowed himself maybe twenty seconds before begging for mercy. “Your husband is over-eager as it is, my lady.” He warned against plump lips. She only regarded him with pleading eyes. Wanting. “Is this your plan?” He teased. “To make me spill after a few kisses? Is this how you will master me?”

“No.” She denied earnestly. Shaking her head from side to side. “I only wish to please you, ser. And to… take you inside.” She finished bashfully. 

He groaned. Lamenting the deliciousness of it. “If you keep this up I’m more like to come in your hand. And what of our pledge to wait until you had recovered?” He reminded her. 

“I am recovered.” She announced stubbornly. He growled hungrily in response. Truth was she looked much improved. Even from just yesterday. So much so it beggared belief. “I’d like to do what a man and a woman do on their bedding, Jaime.” She insisted. 

He didn’t have it in him to resist. That pink cunt was all but beckoning him in. His impatient cock beseeching him to accept the invitation. Besides, she was _his_ wife and custom would have them consummate the marriage promptly after the wedding. Who was he to turn his back on tradition?

His lips were upon hers again. His tongue thrusting deep in her mouth. A moment later he was licking down her throat, down her neck, down her collarbone, down her chest until he had captured a teat in his mouth. He suckled adoringly, enjoying the cries of pleasure he drew from her, making her more and more his. The little rosebuds so terribly responsive. He lavished both peaks with his love until they had turned bright pink and wet from his mouth. _Fuck. They were sweet to suck on._ The act only getting her wetter. The knowledge had him licking down her body further still. Past her navel. Past her firm muscular belly. Straight to her drenched cunt. No other man had ever gotten her like this. Not Renly Baratheon. And certainly not Hyle Hunt.

“But aren’t we to join as one?” Brienne protested in a pant.

“This first.” He informed her before utterly burying his face between her legs. He lapped at her thirstily. His hand cupping her rear and demanding that she give herself over to him. That she allow herself to be pleasured.

It didn’t take long to have her sobbing in desperation. Her hands fisting his hair painfully. Still he would not relent. He had her now. She would be made to know what it meant to be his wife. He’d have her shaking like a leaf from the pleasure of it. The pinkness of her cunt his to savor. Gods he adored this. His cock throbbing as he filled her with his tongue. Fucked her with it. She responded nicely to that. Her hips moving in pace with him. In truth, a day spent with his face buried between her maiden’s thighs would be reward enough for him. However, his bride had loftier ambitions. And he’d have to open her up if she was to have all of him. 

How would she take to two of his fingers this time? He wondered. She’d had them once before. 

Pulling back to watch, he gently filled her with index and middle. His cock aching all the more at the sight. He was stretching her slowly. Letting her adjust. Then pumping them within her when she seemed ready.

She grew to like it. Her cries only intensifying. Her hips moving with him once more. “That’s right.” He encouraged. Locking eyes with her as he lapped at her pearl before taking it into his mouth and suckling gently. He could feel himself smiling as he did. His fingers curving inside her as she quivered around them.

She was magnificent. The muscles of her thighs becoming more pronounced as she shook and arched her back. Her long legs trembling. The violence of her pleasure astounded him. Just the way her powerful body quaked at his touch. The pouring release that took her. He’d never known wenches could get this wet. _Fuck._ That was a revelation in itself. Victorious, he rose to his knees as she continued to spasm. Prideful of what he’d done to her. And so greedy for more. 

“What a sweet honey pot.” He teased lecherously as he loomed over her. “And it’s only for me.” She watched him through hooded sapphire eyes as she fought to regain her breath. “Do you like it? When I’m worshipping at your cunt?” 

“Yes.” She admitted, her voice thick with a raw wanting that struck him to his cord. 

“I’ve wanted nothing else since I had you last.” He confessed, mad with need himself. “Your kisses. Your taste. It’s all I can think of. I…”

“Me as well.” She declared, interrupting him. Then she did the most maddening thing, raising her hips off the bed she offered herself to him all the more flagrantly. “I want you to, Jaime.” 

“Yes.” He agreed urgently, his hips angling forward to meet her. He was at her entrance in an instant. The weeping tip of his cock sliding deliciously between her wet petals. They both whimpered in delight at the aching sweetness of it. It was too good. He began stroking her again and again. Enjoying it to near tears. “It will be very gentle.” He panted as he positioned himself just right. He would not put his weight on her. Nor move her roughly. He’d keep that part of the promise at least. It had to be so… _for now._

He’d just easy inside her for a bit and ... _Gods be good!_ She was excruciatingly tight. It was exquisite though. The slickness of her aiding him as he slid the head in. His maiden gasping at the invasion. Her sheath so snug around him he was forced to retreat at once. Terrified of shaming himself. 

Fuck. _Fuck._ He’d just gotten his first real taste of her painfully wonderful cunt. It was too good. He had to have more. Instantly, he was stroking himself against her again. Wild. He had to force himself to breath. To slow down. To ready himself just as she was bracing herself for his re-entry. And it was no less sublime the second time. Hot. Slick. Mercilessly tight. He got a little deeper. But barely. He was kissing her. Kissing away her discomfort. Or attempting to. Fighting to keep it together. He wanted this too much. 

Slowly he pushed in a little more. Met resistance. With his eyes on hers he took her. Claiming her maidenhead in one easy stroke. The cry she let out muffled against his lips. She was a maiden deflowered now. Locked in her lover’s embrace. A topic oft sung of. 

He knew it had pained her. But not so much so that she wished to stop. There was an urging eagerness to the way she held on to him. As if she meant never to release him. Her blue eyes ruining him with the beauty of her gaze.

He shivered. His pleasure too great. And smiled when she smiled.

“No song could do justice to the feel of you, Brienne.” He whispered hovering on the edge. “Is my lady well?”

She nodded yes. Blushing at his words. Yet pleased. Her eyes bright. 

It overwhelmed him. The need to thrust deep within her becoming irresistible. He had to pull out. His exit overly quick and catching her by surprise. He should have done it smoother but was sure he’d give in if he stayed but a second longer. 

“No.” She cried on impulse as she attempted to yank him back. A moment later she was sputtering out apologies. Embarrassed at her own lust. He chuckled. His hand going to palm her delicious cunt. “Jaime, I…”

“Say you want my cock.” He demanded, smirking before sucking on her bottom lip. He wanted to bite a little. But did not for fear she’d mislike it. The bite she had suffered was beyond savage. Most like she’d never again want the feel of teeth against her flesh.

She kept silent, however, refusing to speak such filth. 

“Or don’t. I might come if you do.” He amended playfully. Truthfully.

“I wish to have you inside me again, Jaime.” She told him too consumed by need to care. She just wanted him.

His cock was at her entrance directly. All too eager to serve at her pleasure. “Is this what my lady wife wishes?” He hissed as he filled her. 

“Yes.” She sighed.

Her tightness had hardly ebbed if at all. It was for the best that he had to hold off. One good thrust and it would all be over. His seed split deep in her womb. What was wrong with him? How had he been reduced to the likes of some green boy? 

She clenched around his pathetically blissful cock. FUCK. 

He pulled out just as quick and sloppy as the previous time. Utterly unprepared for the harsh pleasure that had griped him. 

Her large gentle hands were at his face, stroking his cheeks tenderly to soothe. 

“I’m I…? Is it…?”

“Too good? A thousand times yes.” He informed her frankly. But that she could not comprehend. Or would not let herself in any case. 

“Your meaning… I’m not…”

“My meaning? Why that your sweet cunt is driving me mad with pleasure, of course.” He asserted. He was rubbing her again. Aware that he was getting out of hand. The fact her arousal was perfuming the room did not help matters. He couldn’t inhale the scent fast enough.

How could she remain so utterly unaware of the scrumptiousness of her sex? And had she any idea how maddening the sight she presented was to him? The spread of her legs alone was breathtaking. “They’re just so long.” He found himself saying out of wonder.

“What is?” She inquired.

He didn’t answer. But only because he couldn’t keep himself off her long enough to do it. He was devouring her lips as he buried himself within her again. To the hilt this time. Her hands in his hair, encouraging him. Caressing him. Just the way she closed her eyes for a second and threw her head back. She was taking him so well. 

Then she clenched around him again. The groan he let out as protracted as it was gratified. The pleasure of it obscene. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Yet this time was different from the other sweet grip she’d given him. This time he found her hold unshakable. His pleasure quickly overpowering his resolve. Gods help him, he pleaded in brisk realization, this was her doing. She had him trapped. On purpose. He saw both awe and triumph in her eyes, though she watched him from behind blonde lashes. What must’ve his face shown? Was she finally catching on to the havoc she was wreaking on him?

“Release me now, my love, or I’ll get you with child on our first night together.” Part of him didn’t even care if she obeyed, he’d love it if she just… But she did. Shocked by his warning. His cock slipping out in time to shoot across her blonde curls. It was devastating, the hard sweeping pleasure of it had his toes curling as he spilled his seed. She didn’t begrudge him that either. She wanted all of him. He knew. He could feel it in every touch of hers. Every kiss. 

“Jaime.” She called.

“I love you.” He whispered breathlessly to her as his fingers dipped back into her honey pot, even as he fought not to collapse on her. His cheek coming to rest flush against her heart. It only took six or seven strokes to send her over the edge to join him.

“I love you.” She told him as she did. Her hands caressing his hair.

***

Podrick had the horses ready at the first light of dawn, having made all the preparations needed with the help of the Elder Brother. Predictably, Jaime had objected a great deal, but had gone along grumbling once Hyle Hunt had pledge to join her on her journey. He was still after some reward she believed, but it did not seem right to cast him off after what he had done for her. 

The four of them set out before the sun had fully risen. Septon Meribald staying behind with the brothers of the Quiet Isle, his loyal dog by his side. His duty was to the people of the Riverlands who needed him now more than ever.

They passed the Saltpans a few hours into their travels. The place every bit the scorched desolation she had remembered. Even Jaime had been shaken to see it, and he’d seen his share of horrors upon the battlefield. She should be relieved to have the ruin behind them, she told herself but they were headed to a site that filled her with evermore dread. What’s worse, she was at the same impasse as before. Should they head North? Had Sansa chosen to return to her ancestral home. The home that now stood under Bolton control? Or would she have gone to The Wall to meet her bastard brother who now served the Night’s Watch? Riverrun had at least been ruled out. The Blackfish no longer held Lady Catelyn’s childhood home, Jaime had told her, and Sansa had never been there. He’d had every inch of the Castle combed over, though he’d been looking for an old man not a girl of three and ten. Then there was the Vale. Where Lady Catelyn’s sister had ruled. But she was dead now. 

“Do you reckon this journey will be as perilous as the last?” Hyle asked provocatively. 

“The journey will always be perilous.” Pod informed him with authority. Which made her proud of the lad. “That’s why we must have our wits about us.”

In truth the path to the Crossroads Inn looked no less ominous the second time. The Brotherhood may have fallen but the trees remained adorned with the corpses they had strung up. 

Though she was loath to admit it, it frightened her terribly. This place. She wished to close her eyes. To leave at once. But Jaime was here. With her. His green eyes watching her tenderly as he rode by her side. And Biter was dead. She would not be craven. 

When they reached the Inn. Gendry was the first to greet them with hummer in hand. His relief evident at finding they were not strangers. Jeyne came close behind, with her sister Willow at her side and a legion of little ones trailing behind them. 

“Brienne!” They all shouted upon seeing her, rushing to surround their horses. She’d not expected such a warm welcome. Or even known that they knew her name. 

“Lady Brienne!” Willow called. “You are back! Gendry told us of your troubles. Of your new troubles. Was he polite to you, milady? I told him he better be polite to you on account of you saving all of us.”

“Yes." She answered taken aback. “And very helpful. He led my husband and I out of a labyrinth of woods in the dead of night. We would have been lost without him.” 

“You is married?” A tiny girl asked her. 

“Yes. I wed just yesterday. This is my husband, Ser Jaime Lannister.” The truth of it no less surreal a day later.

“Jaime Lannister!” The children exclaimed in unison, both awed and fearsome. 

“The Lion of Lannister.” A boy no older than five gasped. 

“Isn’t he bad?” Another boy asked. The one Willow had once called Ben Big Mouth.

“Clearly not.” Willow chided. “Not if Lady Brienne chose to marry him.” Jaime laughed in amusement at that.

“Did you really marry the Lion Maid?” Ben asked Jaime, looking up at him in amazement as they dismounted from their horses.

“I did.” He told the boy proudly. “She is now the Lion Wife.”

“And do you have any oranges like last time?” The boy asked her with big eyes.

“Oranges? No. But I do have honey.”

“Honey?” The children squealed in delight. 

“You let them be. They have been traveling and need rest.” Jeyne said to the children as Willow ushered them away. Herding more like. “You look quite well, my lady. It is truly remarkable. I’d not thought it possible to heal as fast as you do.”

“She is quite remarkable.” Jaime said coming to her side.

“It is thanks to the aid you gave me. I would have died had you not cared for me.”

“Thank you for that.” Jaime concurred. “You have our deepest gratitude.” The girl flushed and quickly took her gaze away from him.

“It was the least I could do.” Jeyne said softly and graciously took the pot of honey the brothers had gifted her to give to the children.

“This is where it happened?” Jaime asked her, leading her away from everyone else as Pod took care of the horses.

“Yes.” She told him. Her voice sounding pained even to her own ears. “Right other there.” Her heart beating fast as she remembered the horrid tear of Biter’s pointed teeth into her flesh.

“Kneel.” Jaime told her.

“What? She asked.

“Just kneel. Trust me.”

She did.

He took out his sword.

“Brienne Lannister of Tarth. Heir to Tarth and Lady of Casterly Rock.” He said touching one shoulder with the blade. “In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women. For the valiant deed of having slayed The Mad Dog of Saltpans, for protecting and avenging the people of the Riverlands, you shall stand before me a knight.” He said touching the other. Rise.

She did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is important and it's kinda heartbreaking when I don't get any. Please review and thank you for reading.


	8. Author's Note

There will be a continuation of this story at some point. There is also going to be an additional chapter that takes place between chapters 3 and 4. I will post it before I begin with the second part of the story.

I thank everyone who took the time to read The Lion Maid. Thank you for all your patience. I’m sorry I took so long to update. I’ve been really giving GRRM a run for his money in that respect, haven’t I? I especially want to thank everyone who left a comment. It means so much. Thank you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. All kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated. Happy JB Week 2016!


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